The Queen Under the Lake
by iwantsprezzatura
Summary: You wanted to be King of the World. Maybe you wanted me to rule by your side, to be the pretty princess, the daughter full of admiration. I was never meant to be your princess. I am something much better. I am Queen under the Lake. – OotP & onwards – OC-centric – please read&review!
1. Prologue - Blank Page

**Prologue - Blank Page**

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This will probably not come as a surprise to you, but I do not remember the first time we met.  
It is probably for the better, too. I figure anyone who remembers their birth would be traumatized for the rest of their life.

I bet a lot of people would not believe that you were at my birth. They call you a monster and - if I may be so frank - they are right.  
Now, I know for a fact that you are not a family man and yet you were there. You told me off it yourself, I remember _that_ quite clearly. You even said you had been ever so proud, ever so happy.

I am not sure if that was a lie. You lied quite a lot, you know, and it is close to impossible figuring out what little truth there was in your words. Still, I kind of hope what you told me was not a lie. It would be nice if you actually cared for me, though you never cared for anyone else.  
I cared for you, despite everything.

I do not remember my mother, either, and you never talked about her. Sometimes, I would overhear people whisper - _"just like her mother"_ as well as _"nothing like her at all"_ \- and I will probably never know which of those is true.

Here is something that I do remember: the first time someone told me about you. You will probably hate this, but it was Professor Dumbledore. I hear they usually send McGonagall to tell Muggles about magic and how their children are wizards. Maybe she refused to tell me - I have the suspicion that she did not want me at Hogwarts at all. (That changed quite quickly, because, let me tell you, I was a good student. Almost the best.)  
Of course, I might always have been a special case. Does that make it better for you?

The point is: Dumbledore told me about you, right after handing me the letter that turned my life around. I remember the grave expression he wore and how his sparkling eyes had dimmed.  
"Listen, child," he had said. "There is something else."

It's still ringing in my ears how I asked him, after he told me of you, if that was all that there was to know. He said yes and it was a lie. Lying is not a thing only evil people do.

I remember being crushed - after all, I had always imagined a hero, someone who had abandoned me for a noble cause but still loved me very much. One would think that my stay in the orphanage would have better prepared me for disappointments.  
He had told me of your indiscretions and your delusions of grandeur and the fact that you tried to murder a boy who was just about as old as me.

Have you thought of me that night you went to Godric's Hollow? I never got to ask you, but I like to think - and I know this is only in my mind and you probably did not have a single thought like it - that you stopped for a second and thought about how it could very well be your own daughter sitting in front of you.  
Did you hesitate, when you pointed your wand at Harry? I like to think you snapped yourself out of it, knowing that you would come home to your daughter; your precious daughter that you loved ever so much. I want to think you were sorry when you could not come back to me.

Not that it would have changed anything - sorry or not sorry, they had to send me away, put me in that orphanage.  
At least, I think you did not want that for me. It happened to me, the same as it happened to you and I think it made you angry. You never said (of course you did not), but there was that look in your eyes when I told you.

It was not all bad, you know? I have heard stories of you as a child and you were not very nice.

Okay, you know what? Let's be honest here - you were an absolute arse, and to what end?  
You made a very commonplace mistake - a lot of villains do that. You make people fear you and bow before you in their fright and anguish. Some you may have gained because you are an apt liar and these idiots would follow anyone who claimed to have the heritage we have.

True loyalty - the kind that comes from friendship, from admiration, from mutual respect - was never something that you inspired.  
People betray you regularly and they search for loopholes in your orders, because no one (expect maybe Bellatrix, but she has always been barking mad) actually wants to follow _you_. Not anymore.

You wanted to be King of the World. I do not know what you wanted with me, given your perceived immortality and what not - marry me off? To whom and why? Or maybe, you wanted me to rule by your side, to be the pretty princess at your side, the daughter full of admiration.

I was never meant to be your princess. I am something much better. I am Queen under the Lake.


	2. New Age

**Hello there. Thanks for clicking on my story!**

 **I apologize for any linguistic mistakes; they can happen, seen as I am not a native English speaker. Please bear with me :)  
** **Also, of course, I do not own Harry Potter. Any characters, scenes, dialogue etc. you recognize belong to their respective owners.**

 **Anything else? Ah yes: just so you know, this doesn't have anything to do with Cursed Child. For the sake of this story, we'll just ignore that mess, so 1) I don't have to deal with it and 2) no one has to fear seeing spoilers.**

 **I'll stop babbling now and we'll get on with the first proper chapter:**

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 **New Age**

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You never told me how you found out you were a wizard - but I am sure you remember the joy. Sometimes, I cannot remember what it felt like not knowing there was such a thing as magic, not knowing about Hogwarts.  
There is, however, one thing that is very clear in my mind: it sucks being a Muggle. Being an orphan sucks even more. (I suppose you do remember that part as well.) I had never been happier than when I heard I would be going to Hogwarts, a place where my quirks and little talents would be appreciated instead of having to be kept from sight.

Here is something that will please you, since you are so proud of our heritage and what not: I had barely heard anything about houses when I got sorted, but the Sorting Hat barely had to touch my head before it sent me straight into Slytherin.  
The only thing I knew about Slytherin at that point was that only purebloods got to go there; a certain bushy haired girl named Hermione Granger had been practically shouting about it on the train.

I made the fateful mistake of telling Pansy Parkinson that first night that I had grown up in a Muggle orphanage. She looked at me like I had some contagious sickness.  
She came grovelling later, of course, when you were on the rise again and the entire house was brimming with news about you and their parents' allegiance. Yet, much like you, I do not forgive easily.

I could almost feel Pansy's eyes on me for the entirety of the Welcoming Feast in fifth year.  
The mood was better at the Slytherin table than it was anywhere else - at least, the Gryffindors seemed decidedly less cheerful than usual. Especially Potter looked sour, but for all I knew, he had every reason to.

You had returned the summer before. I had not seen you - I had only seen what everyone else had seen, too. Potter returning as pale as a ghost, clutching the dead body of one Cedric Diggory.  
The Slytherins had taken bets about just how terrible the outcome of the Triwizard Tournament would be, but that had topped all our expectations.

Blaise Zabini nudged me gently in the ribs. I do not think you ever met Blaise, and I am glad of it.  
Dark-haired and olive-skinned, people said he had inherited his good looks from his mother, who was some sort of promiscuous rich woman. More importantly, he was one of the few who had never cared who I descended from and thus had quickly become a friend.

Either way, he was pointing to the teacher's table. "Which of them will teach Defence this year?"

Guessing the new Defence teacher was a game we played every year. People said the job had been jinxed and frankly, some say it was you that did it. True or not, none of us could remember a teacher lasting longer than a year on the Defence Against the Dark Arts post.

My eyes scanned the table for somebody new. The only one was a very small woman clad entirely in pink, who looked like she might die shrieking in the face of Dark Arts rather than defend herself against them.

"Surely that can't be her," Tracey Davis said. "Right, Cassie?"

Tracey was, aside from Blaise, my best friend. Pale as she was, she was a right contrast to both me and Blaise, as we both had a darker tone. We had met during our first night at Hogwarts and with her wide, blue gaze had made her look as lost as I felt.

I hummed in response. "She doesn't look it," I admitted. "But Lupin also didn't look like much."

Blaise scoffed. "Lupin also was a werewolf."

"Still the best teacher we ever had," I said. "But she really doesn't look like it. Maybe Snape finally did get the job and she'll take Potions."

Tracey sighed longingly and wiped a bit of reddish blonde hair out of her face. "That would be too good to be true."  
The good thing about Snape was that he favoured his own students no matter what; but if one was a terrible Potion maker, not even his preference for Slytherins could help and Tracey had long since given up hope for a good Potions mark.

I am not sure if I ever told you about Dolores Umbridge. When she got up that night to speak before the Great Hall, I did not yet know just how terrible a teacher and a person she was, but I would soon learn. Truth be told, even you would probably have hated her.

She interrupted the headmaster with a high-pitched clearing of her throat and proceeded to give a long-winded speech about tradition and the Ministry's wishes. By the time she finished, every single person in the hall seemed to have turned against her.  
Perhaps it was her sickeningly sweet voice or the revolting toad-like face; perhaps it was mostly the sense of falsehood that was dripping from her every word that made her so very hateable.

Tracey had slumped next to me, looking even paler beneath her freckles. "Great," she moaned. "Now I'll fail Potions _and_ Defence."

"Don't be ridiculous," I said. "You'll fail neither of them."

"That's easy for you to say," she said and - she was right.

The only subject I had ever had to worry about failing was Herbology, because I could not keep plants alive for the life of me. When we had desperately needed the Mandrakes in Second Year, when we had needed the plants to revive the petrified students, Professor Sprout had eventually banned me from doing the actual work. The plants had stopped screaming, started crying for good and absolutely refused to go back into their pot. I should probably better not have children.

(Thank you, by the way. Finding out about being the heiress of Syltherin due to a giant snake living in the castle and attacking fellow students was certainly refreshing.)

"I'll help you with Defence," I promised Tracey. "And Snape will never fail you in Potions."

"Cassie's right," Blaise said. "It's O.W.L. year, remember? He'll want all of us to pass with top grades."

There was a sudden commotion. Students were rummaging about, ready to leave for the common room. My eyes scanned the table to find Draco Malfoy looking about importantly. He had been made prefect that year - along with me.

I know you have been prefect as well - I saw you on the lists and I saw your little trophy for special services to the school. Were you proud?  
To me, it was an expected honour, albeit one that I welcomed. I had always thought it would feel more triumphant, though.

First years were swarming around me for the entire walk down to the dungeons, little pureblood boys and girls with expressions ranging from haughty to terrified. I wondered if I had been that small in first year.  
Draco enjoyed pinching them when they were not looking or hexing them so their hair grew in weird colours. We were only halfway through the dungeons before I had to punch him in the arm.

"Will you knock it off?" I said.

"Why?" Draco raised an eyebrow at me. "What else are we prefects for?"

I could have named any number of reasons and none of them included torturing first years. I told him none of them. "I'm telling you to stop, so that's how we'll handle it."

He looked sour, but did not start an argument - we both knew I would not hesitate to hex him if I thought it necessary.

You used Draco later, mostly because you thought he would fail.  
Which he surely would have - but you discounted a very important thing, then: no matter what stands between us, Slytherins stick together. Draco Malfoy might have been a coward and a bully, and we might not always have been friends, but he was one of my people.

The first years were ushered into bed and when the last flimsy footsteps had disappeared into their dormitories, I plopped onto a couch by one of the big windows opening to the lake, right in between Tracey and Vincent Crabbe.

Do you remember the common room? The green tinge of the light, the warm crackling of the fire, the soft gurgling of the lake lapping against the windows?  
Did the Giant Squid already exist when you were here? One of my favourite things was seeing it swim by with mighty pushes.

"I'm exhausted already," I announced. "And it's not been a day."

"Well, you did have to go and become prefect," Pansy Parkinson said, wrinkling her nose as if she had not wished for the position herself.

"Nothing I can't handle," I said and waved her comment away. "Besides, who else would do the job?"

She looked as indignant as I had imagined.  
In that moment, I figured becoming Head Girl would not be such a bad idea after all. Being made prefect had been a matter of course; I was, by far, the best student in Slytherin and someone who was well liked by both teachers and students.  
Becoming Head Girl did not appear to be that easy. I would face the concurrence of Hermione Granger, and that was not easy to compete with.

I am sure you have at least heard of her. Perhaps you know her only as Harry Potter's friend, but around Hogwarts, they called her the brightest of witch of her age, which was a title that irked me quite a bit. I could not deny it though - and maybe you heard that as well - she was _truly_ brilliant.

"Can you believe Snape did not make it? Again?" Blaise said. He was lounging in a loveseat off to the right side of our couch, and had propped his legs over the armrest. "They'd give the job to anyone, but not to him."

"I'd kill for a year of Snape in Defence," Pansy said. "I'd finally stand a chance."

Personally, I thought Pansy would not stand a chance even if her own mother was teaching Defence. No one could give out good grades for nothing.

"But if we're unlucky, he'll die on the job," I reminded her. "Or worse, what with how Lockhart ended. He, and all of us, are probably safer that way."

"I bet that's not why Dumbledore denies him," Draco piped up.

At that time, I had no idea why Snape was the way Snape was and frankly, I do not have much of an idea today; but I did think that Draco was absolutely right. Whatever it was that compelled Dumbledore to keep Snape from the post he so very much wanted, it was not the worry for his safety. He did not care about anyone elses.

The year before, our headmaster had hosted the Triwizard Tournament, sent his own students into fights against dragons and threatened to drown others. One of his students had died during it. Granted, that might have had a little more to do with you than it did with Dumbledore, but still.

"Well, maybe Snape can get the job for our last year," Blaise suggested. "Who cares if gets kicked out after that?"

"How terrible of you," Tracey said. "I'd feel awful if something would happen to him."

There had, indeed, been some awful things that had happened to Defence teachers in the past - Lockhart had lost his memory, Moody had been locked in a box for the entire year and Quirrell, he had straight-up died. You know that, of course, for you had a big part in it.

I wonder - did you ever consider revealing yourself to me? Did you watch me, while you spent the entire year at Hogwarts? I admit that it hurt, finding out you were so close and yet never approached me. Do you not think I deserved better than that?

"We'll see," I said and suppressed the yawn that struggled to break through. "Maybe we should call it a night."

Tracey let out a long sigh of relief and rolled her shoulders. "It's about time someone said it!"

Though no one celebrated my suggestion of going to bed as exaggeratedly as Tracey, they all seemed happy enough to follow my suggestion. The exhaustion did not seem to be limited to prefects.

We all slunk off towards our dormitories.  
I am not sure how much they changed between our times, but to me, the Hogwarts dormitories were the cosiest place on earth. The four-poster beds, covered in green and protected by elegant hangings, wrapping me - for once - in safety.

The company was another thing. Out of the five girls, I was close with Tracey and on reasonably good terms with the others, though I barely tolerated Pansy Parkinson.  
From what I hear, you never had friends, and I can only pity you - but I also understand. People are sometimes hard to endure.

"Hey," Tracey said as I was searching my trunk for sleepwear. "Do you think this will be a good year?"

Even though I did not believe it in that moment and even though it would be a bad year and even though it would only be the start of a series of bad years, I said, "You know what? I think it will be the best we ever had."

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	3. Dolores

**Thanks to everyone who read, fav'd and alerted through the last week. Here's the next chapter, enjoy :)**

* * *

 **Dolores**

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It turned out that the very first class we had was Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Umbridge.  
She was still every bit as pink as she had been the night before and I sat down next to Tracey with the certain feeling that I did not like this woman at all. Something about her toad-lie face screamed ' _loathe me'_.

My eyes fixed on the writing she had placed on the blackboard. It read "A Return to Basic Principles" and my feeling of dread multiplied as I continued with the course aims:

 _1\. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic._

 _2\. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used._

 _3\. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use._

Now, I am sure you realized the same thing that I did in that moment: this woman, this terrible woman sent to us by the Ministry, had no intention of ever letting us use magic in her class.

She chanted a "good morning" and prompted us to follow her example - it took a good while to achieve her goal, mostly because Slytherins can be a stubborn lot when they want to be. Finally satisfied, she moved on to her first speech of the morning.

"Your teaching in this subject has been... insufficient, to put it mildly. There has, so far, been no curriculum approved by the Ministry and the constant changing of teachers has done the rest. You will pleased to know that things will change now. As you can see," and she pointed to the blackboard. "We will follow a carefully structured, theory centered course."

Her instruction to open 'Basics for Beginners' at chapter one fell on deaf ears, though - again, Slytherins are stubborn, especially when someone targets their pride. Suggesting that we were beginners certainly had hurt our pride and so, everyone seemed to have read the book already and decided that it was nonsense.

"Is there a problem?"

Of course, there is another thing about Slytherins: we think things through and we certainly do not anger people with authority, not when it does not benefit us.  
There was a tense silence and in the backrows, a few students stated flipping open their books. I was still weighing the options in my mind. On the one hand, I really did not want to make a fuss on the first day of classes. On the other hand...

"What about practicing?" I asked. Tracey flinched slightly next to me.

"Practicing?" she echoed.

"Practicing, you know, how to defend ourselves from an attack," I said, gesturing vaguely and hoped that she would get the hint.

"Do you expect to be attacked in my class, Ms-?"

"Riddle," I said.

You did a fine job making people forget you real name, by the way. Congratulations.  
Everyone at Hogwarts knew, of course, for after our second year - when the Chamber of Secrets opened yet again - the story of Harry Potter's showdown with the Dark Lord's memory travelled faster around the school than a rumour about Filch being McGonagall's secret lover.  
The name Tom Riddle had echoed around the school - and the Slytherins suddenly bowed to the heiress of Slytherin. To a twelve-year old that had always prayed that no one would ever know.

Dolores Umbridge did not know. She did not even twitch at hearing my name.

"And my point is," I continued. "Not that I will be attacked in this class, but that surely the point of Defence Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells."

Delicately plucked eyebrows rose at my statement. "Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Riddle?"

"No, are you?"

The comment lost me the first five points that year. Possibly lost the entire house the first five points, but it did not matter.  
She had sparked something inside me. Perhaps it was that she did not know who I was, or that she tried to convince me that her rubbish of a class was some intellectual plan that I could not follow.  
Now that I had already brought her up against me, I decided, I might as well continue.

"And how do you expect us, in the real world, to defend ourselves if we never practiced it?"

Umbridge raised her chin as high as she could. "The Ministry is off the opinion that a theoretical knowledge will completely suffice-"

"The Ministry is wrong, then."  
Tracey was shifting uncomfortably next to me. I almost felt bad about putting her through this, but just almost. I would feel even worse subjecting her to a year of terrible Defence classes without a word of protest.  
"Someone who practices the Dark Arts will not wait for us to think back to our theory lessons. We will only stand a chance if these spells become second nature."

Umbridge let out a shrill laugh that hurt my ears. "There is no one out there who would attack students like you."

"What about - _You-Know-Who_?"  
It was Daphne Greengrass, a pretty blonde-haired girl, who looked to our teacher with eyes as wide as saucers. None of us would have admitted it to Potter, not since the Ministry and the Daily Prophet were working so hard to discredit him, but we all knew you were back. No on even doubted it.

"I can assure you that you are not in any danger from any Dark wizard."

This time, it was I that laughed. A bitter, unamused laugh. The rest of the class seemed just about in the same state of mind; with one exception - Vincent Crabbe, who looked decidedly confused when he turned in his seat to look at me.

"But he's back," he said slowly. "Isn't he, Cassie?"

A breath. "Yes," I said. "I can feel it. With every ounce of blood pumping through my veins."

I had felt you from the day you came back, even before Potter returned with the body. That day, I had felt more alive than ever before, brimming with more energy than I had even thought possible.

I could tell from the look on Umbridge's face, though, that no amount of explaining would ever make her understand how I felt you.

"That is," she said slowly. "Impossible."

I raised an eyebrow and forced myself to smile. I was going to regret this. "That's what I thought. You're not able to comprehend the power of Dark Arts - admire it even, which is what you need to understand, to explore, to use them even in the simplest means-"

I knew it before she said it.  
"Detention, Miss Riddle."

Now, you have to understand, I did not get detention often. Or ever. I was not some hot-headed Gryffindor who had to serve detention every other week.  
I was a Slytherin, a prefect, _your daughter_ who - much like you - could get out of trouble with a charming smile and some flattering words. I did not get myself in trouble. Yet something about Dolores Umbridge had made me throw all that caution to the wind. I felt that it had been _worth it,_ even as I approached her office Friday afternoon.

I was early, at least ten minutes early; I had ignored Tracey's warning that I would never need _that long_ to get up here. I did not want to be early though - any minute not spent with Umbridge was a minute worth savoring. Still, I was watching the clock eagerly, until - maybe a minute before the appointed time - I heard footsteps hurrying along the hallway.

It was Harry Potter, who stopped, stunned, when he spotted me.

"You as well?" I said.

"And you?" he shot back. "I thought you'd get along with her swimmingly."

I pursed my lips. "Why? Because I'm also evil?"

Do not get me wrong. A part of me has always been proud to be your daughter. After all, you were among the most powerful wizards to ever live - and yet, I am not like you. I am not evil, I am certainly not crazy. So I did not like it at all when people compared me to you, especially when people like Harry Potter used it to act all high and mighty.

"Right," he muttered. "Let's get in there."

Of course, you probably know enough about Harry Potter to last you a lifetime, but you have still failed to ever truly know him. At that point, I was about in your position. I knew about his adventures, as every student did - I knew how he had saved the Philosopher's Stone and how he had saved his friend's sister from a giant snake. I had seen him play on the Quidditch field (and he was magnificent, I'll have you know) and I had seen him fight a dragon.

He hated me and I did not think very favourable of him, either; but in that moment, when we entered Umbridge's office, I was more than willing to put that aside and join forces.  
Truth be told, we needed the camaraderie. Umbridge was cruel, but not enough so for you to appreciate it. Her ways of torture were narrow-minded, uninspired, and all together unconvincing.

She had decorated the room with vases full of dried flowers. The walls were covered in ornamental plates with _kittens_. Their different coloured bows were most revolting.

"Good evening," she chirped. "Mr Potter, Miss Riddle."

Potter mumbled a greeting in response and I remained stubbornly silent. She pointed out a small lace-draped table already prepared with parchments.

"Uh," Potter said. "Professor Umbridge, er, before we start, I - I wanted to ask you favour."

I did not even need to be a Legilimens to know that he would not be granted his favour, not matter what he asked; it was evident in the sickening smile that stretched on Umbridge's face.

"Well, I'm in the Gryffindor Quidditch team and was supposed to be at the tryouts for the new Keeper on Friday and I was... was wondering whether I could skip detention that night and do it - another night, instead..."

"Oh, no."

See?

"This is your punishment for spreading evil, nasty, attention-seeking stories and punishments certainly cannot be adjusted to the suit of the guilty one's convenience. I think it rather a good thing that you are missing something you really want to do. It ought to reinforce the lesson I am trying to teach you."

Potter stared at her with an expression of poor loathing - it was perhaps the very first time that I felt something like sympathy for him - and then dropped his bag to come and sit at the table.

"Nasty, attention-seeking stories?" I asked.

"There is no need to talk!" I pinched the bridge of my nose and Potter looked about ready to slam his head against the wall. "Now," Umbridge said, switching from shrill to disgustingly sweet again. "You are going to be doing some lines for me."

Remember how I said she was cruel? That was true. She had special quills - bought, I'd wager anything, at something like Borgin & Burkes - with sharp, very thin points. It took just a bit to figure out what they did and then, when the pain at the back of my hand was just strong enough, I saw it.  
Itched deep into it, the words ' _I must not talk about my father'_ \- see, she had figured it out by now, perhaps done a bit of gossiping in the teacher's room - appeared on my hand, bleeding profusely. Even as I watched, the cuts healed and only red stains remained.  
The words I had written with the quill, though, where shining in bright red ink. Blood red.

"Problem?" Umbridge chirped.

"No," Potter ground out.

"Dark enough for you, Miss Riddle?" she asked instead.

The letters were still shining, slightly wet. "Not even close," I responded.

She was not pleased and I suspect that she continued the lesson longer than she had originally intended.  
As I wrote and wrote, the cuts opened and healed over and over and over again. Night fell outside the window. It seemed like hours, and it probably was, but I refused asking to stop. She would not be allowed to win, not if she thought she could break me with physical pain.

Potter obviously thought the same and the two of us sat in silence, clenching our teeth against the pain for a small eternity. Every now and again, we exchanged a short glance - you okay? Okay. - but never tried to talk.

Two rolls of parchment after nightfall, Umbridge finally allowed us to lay the quills down and beckoned us towards her.  
I pulled back before she could dare touch me, but she had apparently seen enough.

"Are you sure of your parentage, Miss Riddle?"

Truthfully, the moments that I was proud of you being my father were far and in between, but it was one of those moments. There slight fear in her gaze, the twitching of her disgusting face - I raised my chin and smiled as brightly as I could.

"I am."

"You couldn't possibly be wrong?"

"No, Ma'am," I said. It was tempting to offer a show of proof - say, a little bit of Parseltongue, which scared the living daylights out of most wizards - but I reigned in my temper. Call it cowardly or sensible, I did not want to be there the next day as well.

She had narrowed her eyes at me. "What makes you so sure?"

Even my sensibleness had bounds. I raised my hand and waved it a bit at her. "Must not talk about it."

Her eyes gleamed dangerously, but she did not say anything. She examined Potter's hand and I watched him shudder when she touched him. She seemed to enjoy calling him back the next day for another round of cutting his hand open.

I grabbed my bag and left, Potter follow me closely. It was surely past curfew and I thanked Merlin that I had a good excuse to be out and was a Prefect as well. Potter, as far as I knew, was not as lucky.

"Hey," I said when we had to part ways at the staircase. "If you ever choose to report her - I'll give testimony gladly."

He frowned. "Why not report her right away?"

I shrugged. "I hate to fire all my weapons right away," I said. "I'm waiting for the right opportunity."

He scoffed, probably thinking about how much he detested Slytherins, but sobered quickly. "Why are you even here?"

I smiled slightly. "Told her my father was back and that she was unqualified. I also maybe advised her to dabble in Dark Arts a bit. What about you?"

Potter pulled a face. "Told her about Voldemort, too."

He always called you by his name. It was his own stubborn defiance - while everyone else either bowed to the Dark Lord or whispered about _You-Know-Who_ , he used the name you had given yourself. He refused to show you fear or respect - and honestly, I had to admire the effort. It was one of my favourite things to call you 'father' in front of unexpectant bystanders.

"I know you're telling the truth," I offered him. "And especially since she doesn't like it, I'll support you in shouting it from the rooftops."

"Why?" he asked.

"Why not?" I shot back.

Truly - why not? It was only day one and I already hated Umbridge with a passion, much more than I disliked Harry Potter, Gryffindor or not, murderer of my father or not. I could only gain by such an alliance and if he chose to make a move against Umbridge, I would gladly stand by him.  
Besides, one could always trust Gryffindors to do the dirty work.

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	4. In My Head

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* * *

 **In My Head**

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The next weeks continued without much of a change. Umbridge still did not let us practice magic and on my rounds as prefect, I ran into Potter at least three times when the trod back from detention. Each time we met, his hand was bleeding more profusely.

When the Slytherins had heard of her methods, they had been disgusted - though they were a lot more indignant about me than they were about the same thing happening to Potter.  
Tracey started shaking with pent-up anger whenever she saw even the slightest hint of pink and Blaise had sworn to jinx Umbridge in the practical exam. At that point, it was still almost a year away, but I did not doubt he would remember. (And he did not. It cost him his 'O', but he did hit Umbridge with a Jelly-Legs Jinx.)

"I can write to my father about it," Draco offered.

With any other teacher, this might have been a worthwhile tactic. "She's a Ministry official," I said. "Let's keep your father in Fudge's good graces, shall we?"

Even without her treatment of me, though, everybody hated her. All she did was make us read chapter after chapter of the terrible book, which was Both boring and infuriating - I would not even torture my worst enemy with that book, and even you probably would not.  
It made everyone wish for another teacher; Pansy Parkinson even went so far as to say she missed Lockhart, who was widely considered to be the worst teacher in the history of Hogwarts.

"If only she did it to the Mudblood," Pansy said, nodding to Hermione Granger as we sat for dinner in the Great Hall.

"Shut your mouth," Blaise said. Neither of us much liked that word - personally, I had never quite understood the need to put Muggleborns down and I thought that the use of it made one look like some uneducated country bumpkin.

"She shouldn't be doing this to anyone," I added when Pansy opened her mouth again, "And watch your tone."

Crabbe and Goyle got detention for eating in class. Daphne Greengrass wore too short a skirt. A girl in sixth year got her hand cut open for giggling a little too loud at one of Umbridge's hair bows.

"I hate her," Tracey said fiercely whenever she could. "Can't you do something?"

I shook my head. "Not yet," I said.  
As much as I wanted to strangle the woman every time I saw her, it was not time yet. It would quite possibly not be time for a good long while. We could only act when there was a chance to remove her for good - as of now, any action would only serve to get us expelled.

Did you read the Daily Prophet during that year? Did you check for news about yourself - and about Hogwarts? I sure did, though, of course, my subscription was paid for by Blaise's mother due to my own debilitating poverty. I sort of hope that you did, for if you did, you read the same thing I did on one rainy November morning.

MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM - DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED FIRST EVER HIGH INQUISITOR

I pushed the paper over to Blaise and the mug he held cracked in his hand and spilled tea over him. As he cursed, Tracey hurried over to read over his shoulder.

" _In a surprise move last night, the Ministry of Magic passed new legislation giving itself an unprecedented level of control at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._ They're kidding, right?" she muttered.

"I'm afraid not," I said, scanning the article yet again. It claimed the Minister was worried about proceedings at Hogwarts. Truth was, the Minister was afraid of Dumbledore and for his own position. I just could not believe that he would risk the education of an entire generation on such pettiness.

"High Inquisitor?" Draco drawled, holding his own copy of the paper. "What does that even mean?"

As it turned out, it meant that she now got to hand out 'educational degrees' with ridiculous new school rules - we had reached a dozen before the first week was out - and that she got to inspect the other teachers' lessons.

We first got to experience this in History of Magic - and she did not seem very pleased with what she saw. Professor Binns did not even greet her and after ten minutes of clearing her throat (hm-hm! hm-hm!, like a bird with a cold) called her 'Miss Umblington' and told her to please ask questions after class. She did not try again.  
(She did, however, try to interrogate him after class with a questionnaire on a clipboard. He floated through his chair.)

She targeted Ancient Runes next, but had very little to hm-hm about. There was a rumour that she had inspected Divination, though, and had practically fired Professor Trelawney already.  
Curiously, everybody disliked Trelawney but suddenly wished that she would stay. Even Milicent Bulstrode, who had been told over and over again by the woman that she would die a lonely spinster, claimed that Umbridge was not half the teacher Trelawney was and that she should better kick herself out.

Next I experienced her was in Care for Magical Creatures. It was a class that I had always regretted taking.  
You do remember Hagrid, don't you? You had a hand in getting him expelled from school; and yet he remained on the grounds forever, taking the job of Ground Keeper. Perhaps Dumbledore felt sorry for him, or perhaps he had another reason, but he did give him a teacher's position in my third year and so the man you had robbed of his magical career became my teacher and taught me about flobberworms and Blast-Ended Skrewts.. It was, all in all, a terrible experience.

That year, though, was different, for Hagrid had not returned from the holidays and was replaced by a woman named Grubbly-Plank, who wore a stern expression but was a much better teacher.

Umbridge was already standing beside her when Tracey and I arrived for class, accompanied by Draco and his usual entourage.  
Draco had once been attacked by a Hippogriff in class - due to his own stupidity, mind you - and it had caused quite the stir. I never understood why he insisted on keeping the class, especially since he kept finding reasons that Hagrid was the worst.

"The headmaster seems strangely reluctant to give me any information on the matter," Umbridge just chirped. "Can you tell me what is causing Professor Hagrid's very extended leave of absence?"

Professor Grubbly-Plank did clearly not know and did not seem to care about Hagrid's whereabouts or his return. Instead, she swiftly got started on the lesson while Umbridge swept through the crowd and started questioning us on magical creatures.

I nudged Draco in the ribs.

"I know you fancy yourself a story-teller," I said. "But none of that today."

Draco had spent the last year giving warped information to very shady Daily-Prophet reporters.  
He had the look of a petulant child. "Why?"

"Because we hate Umbridge, right?" I answered, lowering my voice even more. "And we don't get in league with people we hate."

Meanwhile, Professor Grubbly-Plank was explaining to said person we hated that she indeed did not have any complaints about Dumbledore, no matter how much Umbridge prodded.

Personally, I never much cared for Dumbledore, as did you - you also know that I thought him quite dangerous and entirely unfit to run the school as I imagined it should have been run; but in that moment, I felt an overwhelming sense of pride that Grubby-Plank, substitute as she was, would stand with him.

Outsiders always think that Slytherins are quick to betray even their closest friends; they have no idea of the fierce loyalty we feel for our own. Against Umbridge, even the most unpopular part of Hogwarts counted as our own.

Unsatisfied with the teacher's answer, Umbridge rounded on the students again. "Now," she said to Gregory Goyle. "I hear there have been injuries in this class?"

"That was me!" Draco piped up and my nails dug deep into the skin of my palms. "I was-"

A flick of my wand rendered him mute. He opened and closed his mouth without a sound escaping, like a stranded fish, the _Silencio_ charm effortlessly effective.

"Dear?" Umbridge inquired. "What is it you were saying?"

His ears now turning red, Draco turned to look at me; perhaps hoping that I would release the charm.

"He's been bitten by a flobberworm," I said, to which Draco gesticulated wildly. "All over the Prophet, it was."

Umbridge looked like she was about ready to explode. She could not have heard my charm - I had practiced silent spell casting for the past year and had quickly become good at it; and she had stood with her back to me.  
I was ready to argue to death if she were to give me detention, but she instead swiftly turned to Draco and said, " _Sonorus_!"

Draco cleared his throat, finding his voice to have returned.

"Mr Malfoy?" Umbridge prompted.

"Uh," he said and his eyes quickly darted to me. "She was right. Bitten by a flobberworm."

"They don't even have teeth!" Umbridge snapped.

There was nothing she could do. Draco merely shrugged and, his tale of the vicious flobberworm complete, Umbridge had no other choice but to turn to Professor Grubbly-Plank and end her inspection.

I rounded on Draco for this particular bit of insubordination, but held up his hands in surrender. "Potter's watching," he said. "So spare me the lecture."

He was right. We were under the Gryffindors' scrutiny, though it seemed less malicious than usual. When our eyes met, Potter sharply nodded at me - a mere greeting, or perhaps even a thanks.

"You'd deserve it," I answered Draco, though my eyes wandered on to Hermione Granger. "No more stunts like this."

Here is another thing I had practiced the year before: Legilimency. It had been years since I had first discovered that on occasion, the voices in my head were not just my own - but only in fourth year had one of the books I used for advanced studying given a proper name to it.

From the moment I knew what it was, I studied it - the way I studied most things, more with intuition and feeling rather than by a textbook.

Hermione Granger was one of my favourite test subjects, mostly because it enhanced not only my mind-reading skills but often offered additional information on whatever subject she was currently studying herself.

Today, there was no academic information, but her contemplating expression still intrigued me. The idea in her head was still forming, not quite of the sharpness that I was used to from her - but it sparked something inside me, too.

What an idea! Rebellious, perhaps a little bit too rebellious for a Slytherin - yet I did not really have a family to embarrass, did I?  
I keep thinking how I would have loved nothing more than to have that little bit of normality - just once to get a Howler saying how I was a disgrace to the family and how I would get disowned if I did not put things right again. A strange thing to wish for, is it not? I have a feeling you might know why I longed for it.

However, that was all besides the point; I had learnt of Granger's idea and Slytherins _did_ have a knack for rule breaking, after all.  
For the next week or so, I kept scanning her mind and watched as the idea developed a more clear-cut form.

It was simple but efficient: to set up a group of students, to practice the defensive spells that we did not get to learn in class - and, perhaps the best part of it all, to have Potter be the teacher.

I'm not sure if you understand my fascination, but the thought of duelling Potter, even in good fun... perhaps that was what pulled me in, after all. Maybe I just wanted to see if I was better than you.

She wanted to set it all up on the first Hogsmeade weekend, though for the longest time, she did not even tell Potter of her idea - I could tell when she had, because Potter now gave off a mixture of nerves and sheer frustration.

I passed him in the Entrance Hall just two days before the first Hogsmeade trip.

"Hey Potter!"

He froze and stiffly turned to look at me. "What do you want?"

"Why so rude?" I asked lightly, motioning for him to move on, towards the Great Hall were we would not be overheard through the chatter of the other students. "Listen, I overheard your friend Granger, she's inviting people to the Hog's Head-"

Behind his glasses, his eyes widened in terror. "How did you hear?"

"Relax," I chastised. "No one else knows."

He did not seem convinced, but I could not very well tell him that I spent my time rummaging through other people's heads.

"Anyway," I said to get back on track. "I want in."

Potter choked slightly on his next words. "No. Absolutely not."

"Yes," I reiterated.

"You're a Slytherin," he said. " _The_ Slytherin, we can't trust you-"

Flatterin as his assessment was, I could not let it stand. "You really can," I said. "There's nothing that builds better friendships than a mutual enemy. You hate Umridge, I hate Umbridge. We're on the same side."

He ran a hand through his already messy hair, more pulling it out than anything else. "No," he finally repeated. "You are the enemy."

"Not right now," I said. Glancing over to the Slytherin table, I found quite a few of my housemates watching the exchange between us with suspicion - undoubtedly, the situation would be much the same on the Gryffindor table.

I sighed, squared my shoulders and nodded to Potter, who was still glaring back at me. "I'll see you in Hogsmeade."

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	5. Don't Let the World Turn Past Me

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* * *

 **Don't Let the World Turn Past Me**

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Did you ever socialize with students outside your house? I do not mean during Prefect duty or a shared class of Divination. (Did you take Divination? I would hope not, it probably always was a terrible waste of time.) I mean, have you ever made friends in other houses? Met them on Hogsmeade weekends or in the Great Hall?  
As sad as it is, you probably did not: you are not the best at forming friendships, honestly, and you would have had a hard time making a Gryffindor worship you like your housemates did. Or frankly someone with half a brain, so Ravenclaw House might have been out of the equation either way.

My point is, until the day that I met with Potter and his mates in Hogsmeade, I do not think that I ever exchanged anything but meaningless pleasantries with anyone outside Slytherin.  
So I entered the Hog's Head on the next Hogsmeade weekend, with the best intentions but a tight knot of anxiety in my stomach.

I actually entered following closely after Fred and George Weasley and a friend of theirs whose name I did not care to know. The three of them were too caught up in examining their bags filled with Zonko products to even notice that I slipped inside behind them.  
I was not entirely invisible, though - it would have been insulting if I had been, do you not agree? - and it only took a few moments for the first Hufflepuff to recognize me.

"Who invited her?" he said with some disdain. "Get out, Riddle, no one needs spies here."

I did not bother to ask who exactly I was supposed to be spying for - I did not have to justify myself to this person. "And who are you?" I asked instead.

He puffed out his chest. "Zacharias Smith," he answered pompously.

"Never heard the name," I said, smiling slightly as his face fell. "And I invited myself."

Meanwhile, the argument had started to draw attention. Granger was whispering urgently to Potter, who wore an exasperated expression. The younger Weasley boy, too, looked everything but pleased.  
Cho Chang, whose name I knew because she was Ravenclaw's Seeker and the late Cedric Diggory's girlfriend, was muttering to her friend, who was blonde and wore a sour expression.

She seemed almost ready to talk to me - or accuse me of being a spy as well, I would never get to find out - when Granger stood up and cleared her throat to draw attention.  
"Well," she said and did not sound at all as confident as she did in class. "Er - hi, well... you know why you're here, er... well, Harry here had the idea, I mean - I had the idea-"

My eyebrows rose at her stuttering. I could not tell if I should pity her or be amused. Finally, she drew a deep breath and from then on started to talk in full sentences, explaining how she wanted to form a group to train the defensive spells we did not get to learn in class.

"You want to pass your OWL, too, though, I bet?" a Ravenclaw boy said when she had finished on the note that we should be able to defend ourselves.

"Of course I do," she said. "But more than that, I want to be properly trained in defence, because... because Lord Voldemort is back."

Gryffindors are like that - both disrespectful and reckless at the same time. The reaction was immediate and predictable - several people flinched and shuddered; Neville Longbottom even uttered a very odd yelp.  
Completely ignoring the uproar, Granger continued, "If you want to join us, we need to decide how we're going to-"

"Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?" asked Zacharias Smith.  
I decided in that moment that I really hated him. Not as much as I hated Umbridge - I would probably never hate anyone as much as I hated Umbridge - but I did very strongly dislike him.

"You are joking, I assume?"

Every eye turned to me as I raised an eyebrow at Smith. "Elaborate," he demanded.

"I can't believe that any of you even doubt it," I said, shaking my head slightly. "The Ministry's been in denial all right, but we should all be clever enough to see the truth."

"Well, you would know," Ginny Weasley snapped. I am not sure if you ever met her - but out of all the Weasleys _I_ met, she was by far the fiercest and could be slightly terrifying if she wanted to.

"I do know," I answered.

"Then get out of here!" her brother Ron said hotly from across the table. "You're probably only here to spy on Harry-"

"Oh dear," I said. "Ronald, is it? Listen, _Ronald_ , if I were to spy on Potter, I would go about this very differently and I wouldn't put up with this charade. You are always boasting about being the good guys, oh-so-tolerant, yet you don't even grant me a chance. Frankly, I'm disappointed."

My words were followed by a tense silent. The Gryffindors, especially, were shifting uncomfortably in their seats and exchanging worried looks.

"She's right," Granger said finally. "Ron - Ron! - Just let it go. Let it go, everybody."

"We still don't have any proof," Smith piped up and I felt the sudden urge to strangle the guy - with my bare hands, no magic involved; just the urge to let out pure physical aggression.

Granger opened her mouth to protest, but Potter was ahead of her. "What makes me say You-Know-Who's back?" he said. "I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you won't believe me, and I'm not wasting my afternoon trying to convince anyone. I don't want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that's what you're here for, you might as well clear out."

I felt like that was a speech that might need applause, but instead, everyone just ducked their heads. None of them left their seats, not even Zacharias Smith.

"Is it true," a Hufflepuff girl chirped suddenly. "That you can produce a Patronus?"

Potter blinked, slightly put off. "Yes."

"And did you kill a Basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office?" Terry Boot, another Ravenclaw Quidditch player. "That's what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year..."

It seemed that everyone started talking over each other, naming brave things that Potter had done, accomplishing those feats with a mixture of good instincts and sheer dumb luck, while Potter himself tried to convince everybody that he was not that special.  
Not that he was very special - the only thing that made him special was that you had picked him, once upon a time - but I had expected a Gryffindor to be a little more full of himself.

I was leaning back in my chair, watching the tumult with a smile tugging at my lips when Zacharias Smith decided to get a word back in. He clearly did not know how to keep his mouth shut.  
"Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?" he sneered.

"You shut your mouth," I said icily before Potter had the chance to respond. "Or I'll glue your lips together and not even Madam Pomfrey will manage to pry them apart again."

He blinked at me. "Well, we've all turned up to learn from him and now he's-"

"I'm serious," I interrupted, rubbing the fingertips of my thumb and middle finger together, which curiously made him shrink back in his chair. "I will do it if you don't shut up."

"Yes, well," said Hermione hastily. "Moving on - the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry?"  
There was a murmur of general agreement. "Right! Well then, the next question is how often we do it. I really don't think there's any point in meeting less than once a week-"

There was another commotion when everyone started shouting that any potential meeting could not collide with Quidditch practice or whatever.

Zacharias Smith piped up with a shout that yes, Hufflepuff did have a Quidditch team as well. I reached for my wand as fast as if I had been attacked.  
Just a little flick and his lips stuck together so firmly that it almost looked like he had no mouth. He uttered a strangled noise from the back of his throat and I smiled brightly at him.  
"I did warn you," I said. "But if you behave, I may even release the curse by the end of our meeting."

Several people were chuckling and one of the Weasley twins was very close to slipping from his chair with laughter.  
Meanwhile, Zacharias Smith was touching for his mouth helplessly, groaning as he went and hitting the table in frustration when my spell stuck.

Granger was shifting nervously. "That - that, Cassandra, please." No one had called me Cassandra in about five years. "Lift it," she continued. " _Please_. You're a prefect!"

As if that would change anything. Now, do not take me wrong, I was very intent on keeping my position as prefect, and to perhaps one day become Head Girl, but that would not come at the cost of being nice to idiots like Zacharias Smith.

"I don't know," the other Weasley twin - the one who was still sitting upright - said. "I say leave him like that forever."

I smirked at him, pleased with that reaction, and to my surprise, he even grinned back.

"Cassandra," Granger said, sounding close to begging me on her knees.

"Oh, all right, if it means so much to you."

With another flick of my wand, Smith's lips sprung free and he gasped for breath as if I had been drowning him. "You! I will! I will tell, I will-"

"You won't."  
He fell silent once more, glaring at me, but I did not have the slightest fear that he would go telling on me - who would he have told, anyway? Which teacher, exactly, would have believed him over me? Me, the prefect, and the best student? (Aside from damned Hermione Granger, of course.)

"Hem, hem."

I whirled around in my seat, frantically searching for where Umbridge had hidden - should I not have sense had she snuck up on us? - but I found that it had only been an excellent imitation by Ginny Weasley. She grinned broadly and, relieved, I joined a few others in their laughter.

"Weren't we trying to decide how often we're going to meet?" she asked

"Yes," Granger said, obviously glad that someone else remembered. "Yes we were, you're right."

I leant back in my chair while the discussion continued; there was another mention of Quidditch and then everyone started throwing in ideas on where to meet for these lessons - the only condition that I had was that we meet as far away as possible from the dungeons.  
I had the distinct feeling that, no matter their feelings on Umbridge, the Slytherins would not take kindly to me joining Potter's little group.

Granger rummaged through her bag and pulled out parchment and quill. "I think everybody should write their name down," she announced. "If you sign, you're agreeing not to tell Umbridge or anybody else what we're up to."

One of the Weasley twins reached out for the parchment and cheerfully wrote his signature. Some other people, though, were looking rather hesitant to right their name down.  
Zacharias Smith muttered something about Ernie Macmillan telling him the dates, but the other boy did not seem to be on board, either.

"I, well... we are prefects!" he spurted finally. "And if this list was found, I mean to say..."

"Ernie, do you really think I'd leave that lying around?" Granger asked.

"No - no, of course not. I... yes, of course I'll sign."

He wrote his name down and handed me the list. The magic shot through me like a jolt. This was not any old parchment - I looked quizzically up at Granger, wondering what she had done. I figured it was just some sort of hindrance if someone were to tell - and I did not plan to tell. Swiftly, I wrote my name down on the list.

It took about half an hour before I regretted signing for the first time and it had only very little to do with the meeting as such.  
Not that the very thought of Zacharias Smith did not make me sick - I supposed he would be on the receiving end of my curses more often than not - but that was not it.

Halfway up to the castle, I ran into Draco Malfoy. For once, he was not accompanied by his cronies or anyone else, really. He just stepped right into my path, arms crossed and lips pressed into a tight line. I stopped an raised an eyebrow at him in silent prompting.

Draco Malfoy had a certain knack for putting his nose into matters that did not concern him. It had started out kindly enough, though he had probably viewed me as some sort of charity case - or perhaps his father had just always feared that you would return and kick his arse for not taking better care of me. As of late, it was getting bothersome.

"You were at the Hog's Head," he said.

"How very observant of you," I said. "Anything else?"

"So were Potter and his friends!" he said, more hotly than I had expected. He was usually more collected than that. "So were loads of others - what were you doing there?"

"Having a drink," I retorted. "The innkeeper sells firewhiskey to minors, didn't you know?"

"This is no time to joke-"

"And I don't," I shot back.

I made to pass him but he reached out. His fingers wrapped around my upper arm, digging in almost painfully. I hissed and jerked my arm free at once. The movement was accompanied by little burst of magic that did not do much harm, but sent Draco sprawling in surprise.

"Don't touch me again," I said while he picked himself up.

"I-"

" _You_ ," I said. "Will do well to remember who I am and how inconsequential you are in comparison."  
His eyes narrowed at me, but I shook my head before he could respond. "I owe you nothing, least of all justification. So leave me alone."

He did not say anything, perhaps he did not dare to, but as I stalked away, I could feel his eyes pierce into my back. I did not need to read his thoughts to know that I would have to sneak away even more carefully than planned if I did not want to be discovered.

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	6. The Room of Requirement

**The Room of Requirement**

* * *

It took about a week until I heard from Potter and his friends again. Hermione Granger dropped a book next to the table I was sitting at in the library and whispered the directions in my ear.  
Now, I know for sure that you know of the Room of Requirement, though I do not know if you called it by that name. It is that secret place on the seventh floor, right opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy; a man dancing ballet and being clubbed by trolls as he does it. It is a curiously useful place - one that becomes whatever is needed if only you wished for it strongly enough.

I was one of the first to arrive, but felt that it was inappropriate to be early - or alone with the Gryffindors. Instead, I waited in an adjacent corridor until the room finally filled up. When I entered, almost everyone had arrived and lounged on silk cushions on the floor.  
The walls were lined with bookcases stacked with loads and loads of information on defensive magic. As I scanned the shelves, I wondered if it would offer me books on Dark Arts as well, if only I wanted it.

By the time the clock stroke, every cushion was occupied. After the places next to me had been left free, the Weasley twins had dropped down on either side of me as if we had always been the best of friends. Despite myself, my heart lightened at their arrival. I was used to slight misgivings, but not to the open hostility that surrounded me here.

"So," one of them said and I would probably never know if it was Fred or George, "Who are you going to curse first?"

From anyone else, this would have been offensive, but the bright smile took all the question's viciousness. With a twitch of my lips, I pointed straight at Zacharias Smith, who sat with a group of his friends and looked more sour than I thought any Hufflepuff could look.

"Well, I'd tell you, I would rather have him for myself," the other twin said.

"But you'll do more damage," the first added.

An incredulous laugh escaped me. So much for the eternal hatred between Gryffindors and Slytherins.

Meanwhile, Potter had closed the door and returned to the front of the room, explaining to one of his housemates a few of the detectors on a shelf by his side. When he finished, Granger had thrust her hand high into the air in that obnoxious way that made her stretch and almost fall off any surface she was currently sitting on.

"I think we ought to have a name," she said brightly when Potter pointed to her. "It would promote a feeling of team spirit and unity, don't you think?"

 _Team spirit._ I was never good at playing in a team. People sometimes told me that there was no 'I' in team - of course, those people were never Slytherins - and I told them that there was, however, and 'I' in integrity and individuality and independence.

"Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?" asked the Gryffindor's Quidditch captain.

"Or the Ministry-of-Magic-are-Morons Group?" one of the twins suggested.

"How about something a little more subtle," I said. It would not do to run around the school talking about the Anti-Umbridge League when she was already searching for any excuse to punish whatever student she laid eyes on.

"The Defence Association?" Cho Chang said. "DA for short, so nobody knows what we're talking about?"

Ginny Weasley, all the way across the room, suddenly lightened up . "DA's good," she beamed. "Only, let's make it stand for Dumbledore's Army."

I am sorry, you know? I know you hated the man, and I honestly did too, sometimes. I know he was the only one you ever feared, your arch-nemesis, the bane of your existence.  
Nevertheless, this was an excellent idea. Dumbledore was the Ministry's worst fear, too, and if we wanted to act up, this was the way to do it.  
So I am sorry, but yes, at one point, I was a member - and proud to be such - of Dumbledore's Army.

Granger swiftly pinned the piece of parchment with our signatures on the wall and wrote the name of our group in capital letter across the top.

"Right," Potter said, raking a hand through his already messy hair. "Shall we get practising, then? I was thinking, the first thing we should do is Expelliarmus - I know it's pretty basic but I've found it really useful."

"Oh please," said Zacharias Smith and that unbelievable hatred curled inside me again. "I don't think Expelliarmus is exactly going to help us against You-Know-Who, do you?"

Zacharias Smith, lucky for him, never had to face you. He would not have survived if he had, no matter what Potter taught us during that year. Right in that moment, I was tempted to show him just how useless he was.

Potter, though, had a much more defeating point.  
"I've used it against him," he said, not even bothering to raise his voice. "It saved my life in June."

Smith opened and closed his mouth stupidly, blinking at Potter, and not getting out a single word. The room had suddenly become very quiet.

"But if you think it's beneath you," Harry added. "You can leave."

Zacharias Smith did not move, not even a single inch, and neither did anyone else. When no one protested anymore, Potter proceeded and divided us into pairs.  
With a nod in the direction of the Weasley twins, I maneuvered myself directly towards Smith, who paled visibly when he found me his opponent.

"Scared?" I teased.

He did not answer and instead grabbed his wand tighter when Potter counted in. One - two - on three and a half, I waved my wand, disarming Smith without so much as a word uttered.  
His wand flew out of his hand without any fight, hurtling through the air and clattering onto the floor behind me while everyone else yelled, ' _Expelliarmus_!"

Smith, first so pale suddenly turned very red. "You're not allowed to do that!" he sputtered.

"What?" I shot back. "Don't you think nonverbal spells will help us against _You-Know-Who_?"

While Smith still struggled for words, I looked around and found that many people had done very badly. A few had not succeeded in disarming their opponents at all and some had hit others instead or sent books flying around the room.  
Potter moved about the room, correcting people on their wand movement and pronunciations, advising them to be just a little more precise.

In the meantime, Smith had learnt that I would not wait for him to be ready and tried to be even more quick. Unfortunately for him, he had to cast his spell verbally and I also read it in his thoughts even before he formed the words.  
He was growing more and more frustrated and to be honest, my desire to curse him was dwindling - that kind of red-headed anger was better than any jinx I could have sent his way.

"You know," Potter said when he wandered by us. "You could at least give him a chance."

"Did my father give you a chance?"  
Our eyes met briefly, both knowing that such an idea was ridiculous. Behind him, Neville Longbottom was ducking the flying spells in desperate search of his wand.

"All right," Potter said. "Carry on."

This went on for the better part of an hour, during which Zacharias Smith never managed to disarm me, but instead hit his friend Ernie Macmillan and Neville Longbottom, who had just retrieved his wand and carried it before him like a ceremonial sword with a bright smile.

Potter eventually dismissed the meeting, setting the next for the following week. He let us go in groups of threes and fours, though I slipped out behind a group of Ravenclaws - I would have to get home by myself, either way.

DA practice took over much of the following weeks. Hermione Granger found an ingenious way to communicate - when I asked her about it, she said she got the inspiration from you and the Dark Marks, can you believe it? What an edgy little thing to do for a goody-two-shoes like her. She created golden coins that heated up and displayed little messages when she willed it.  
They were concealed effortlessly within pouches, which worked very well - or so I was told - when there was any money in your pouch. When, of course, Mrs Zabini paid for your robes and Mr Malfoy for your books, hiding a gold coin was not as easy.

"Since when do you have money?" Pansy Parkinson had carelessly sneered when I had been holding it. She did not ask after it any more, but it had sparked Tracey's interest.

"Not that I ever agree with Pansy," she said when the other girls had left. "But since when _do_ you have money?"

"I don't have money," I shot back, which was true because I frankly had never had money. "I have a coin."

Tracey frowned at me, and even though she did not have any idea of the true reason for the coin, she pinpointed the possibly consequences with frightening accuracy.  
"Don't let Umbridge see you with that," she said.

I stuffed the coin back into my trunk. "Of course not."

Tracey shifted awkwardly. "And better not let Draco see it either."

I sat up a little straighter. Draco had barely spoken to me since that trip to Hogsmeade and I had welcomed it - after the way he had behaved, I had absolutely no desire to talk to him.  
Tracey, however, seemed too nervous for this to be just about the slight tension in the group; tensions between Slytherins were too normal for her to be put off by it.

"Why?" I demanded. "What's Draco up to?"

She bit her lip and when I leant forward to urge her on, she let out a heavy sigh. "I know you said not to side with Umbridge, but, well -"

"BUT?"

"But she's gathering people to form a little sort-of-police around here, and Draco told everybody that that would be a good idea and - Cassie, no, please!"

I was already up and by the door when she interrupted herself.  
Now, I know how you deal with insubordination, but I am not crazy and I am also not the leader of a terrorist organization and my leadership was also not that unquestionable, so the same rules might not apply.  
I did not kill Draco Malfoy that day, though I sure would have liked to and maybe I _should_ have, because it would have saved me a lot of trouble later on.

He looked up when I approached and found him surrounded by Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle and Pansy Parkinson, who tried to shimmy herself onto his lap.

"What do I hear about you sucking up to Umbridge?"

Tracey had bolted down the stairs after me, almost toppling, but was now approaching slowly and carefully, Blaise in tow.

"Well," Draco said, grey eyes sparkling. "She's offering privileges and we could dole out punishments-"

"You're a prefect!" I snapped.

Truth be told, even that much power was too much to hand to Draco, who had abused it at every go - it had become a regular occurrence that I had to save first years from him - and I thought it not only ridiculous, but scandalously bad judgment fom Umbridge to trust him with even more when it was clearly going to his head.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he snarled venomously. "Sneaking around with Gryffindors like you are-"

"I'm not sneaking," I shot back, though I was definitely doing a lot of sneaking. "And given the choice between Umbridge and a Gryffindor, I'll take the Gryffindor any time. As all of you should."

Blaise had arrived behind me and laid a hand on my shoulder, but it did not do much good. Pansy had shifted again and said to Vince, in a mock whisper, "Told you she's not a true Slytherin."

During my first year, that year when no one knew who I was, that had been something they had said over and over again. _Lives in a Muggle orphanage - she can't possibly be a pureblood, can she? She's probably a Mudblood! She's not really a_ Slytherin. _She's not one of us._

"Shut your mouth," I said. "You speak to heiress of Slytherin himself."

What a triumph, is it not? Did you ever use it that way, told it to your friends and enemies as the final punchline, the utter defeat? Or did you fear that no one would believe you, as unbelievable a story as it is.

Pansy pursed her lips, but the rest of the group had the good sense to duck their heads. It was for that reason that I did not play the heir-of-Slytherin-card very often. They seemed almost ashamed when they forgot - it instilled just the right amout of fear that way.  
They might not give up their idea of joining Umbridge, but chances were they would not sneak after me if I reminded them of you often enough. Even though I had never met you, you were useful that way.

"Cassie," Blaise muttered behind me, his hand on my shoulder tightening the grip slightly.

"No, it's all right," I said, turning from the group. "I'm done either way."

I was not, however, done.

Blaise followed me, even as I stormed out of the common room. When I found him following, I was tempted to turn around and go to the dormitory, for at least he could not follow there.

"What does he mean, sneaking around with Gryffindors?" he asked as I leant, relenting, against the cold, hard wall of the dungeon hallway.

"It's Draco," I said pointedly. "He's making things up."

"No," Blaise said, shaking his head. "Draco sees things and then builds stories around it. So what does he mean?"

My lip curled at that. "Even if I wanted to tell you, I couldn't."  
At that point, I did not know what that Granger girl had done to the list, but there was some sort of spell on it and I did not want to risk her wrath by spilling the beans to Blaise.  
Even if there had been no spell, though, I would probably not have told him. It was no good handing out information that was potentially incriminating.

"Is that what we're like now?" he asked. "Aren't we friends?"

"Friends, maybe," I said. "But that doesn't change a thing."

His dark eyes narrowed at me. "Did you tell Tracey?"

I pushed from the wall, straightening as I faced him. "Why?" I asked, even though I could read the answer plainly in his face, if not his mind. "Are you jealous?"

He glared for a moment, until after a short moment when I thought he might yell at me, his features suddenly softened. "You're really terrible sometimes, you know?"

I smiled and brushed a hand down his arms as I passed him, heading back towards the common room. "Only if it suits me," I told him.

* * *

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	7. Inside Information

**Thanks to everyone who read, fav'd and alerted since last week!**

* * *

 **Inside Information**

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Things dragged on rather uneventfully for the next few months. By the time Christmas rolled around, everyone had mastered the Disarmament Charm - apart from Zacharias Smith who could not keep his wand in hand even when he was not partnered with me; I happily gave up my duels to Fred Weasley, if that meant disarming Smith from across the room and watching his confused face as the wand toppled from his hand.

The Slytherins had meanwhile joined the 'Inquisitorial Squad'. By degree I-cannot-remember-the-numbers-anymore, Umbridge had officially started the group and was sending Draco and his friends through the school to 'maintain order'. They maintained about as much order as a pack of stray dogs.  
Much to my satisfaction, neither Tracey nor Blaise joined, though the former kept demanding why I protected Hufflepuffs nowadays. (I told them Hufflepuffs had extraordinarily good access to extra food from the kitchens, which was both a lie and very, very true.)

Christmas came and went without too much of a fuss - thanks for the _zero presents_ I got from you, by the way, would it have killed you to at least send a note? (And no, it would not have, we all now that it was not that easy) - and before I knew it, a new year had started and I had turned sweet sixteen with the passing January.

It was already warming again, spring arriving in late March, when Tracey unceremoniously dropped an issue of the Quibbler in front of me at breakfast.  
Mind you, I do not know why she had it in the first place. The Quibbler, strange little paper as it was, was not usually read at the Slytherin table. That day, things were obviously different.

"Read," Tracey said breathlessly.

HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST: THE TRUTH ABOUT HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN

"What," I whispered. "In Merlin's name?"

"Can you believe he would do that?" she asked, and sank down on the bench next to me as if her knees had suddenly gone weak. "What's your father going to say?"

"How would I know?" I shot back while my eyes scanned over the text, a step-by-step account of what had happened last June, when you had returned. "And, either way, I don't suppose he'd care."

Across the hall, a bubble had built around Harry Potter and his friends - Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs alike had gathered and were reading the article over Potter's shoulder.

I did not need to see Umbridge's sour expression to know that she would not approve. She stalked over to Harry and snatched the paper from his hand.

"Oh," Tracey said and plucked the article from my hand in much the same way. "I feel like we shouldn't be seen with this."

She was absolutely right. It did not take even a day before Umbridge had put out Educational Degree Number-Even-More-Than-I-Cared-to-Count and forbid owning any copy of the Quibbler, which of course meant that a black-market trading of the Quibbler boomed within hours.  
By the end of the week, I owned ten copies of the same issue, just because I could and started putting them in Pansy Parkinson's purse. She shrieked every time she found one.

There was a slight bit of trouble, though: Harry had named all the Death Eaters he had identified that night and they were, as expected, relatives of almost all my classmates.

"D'you think the Ministry will take this seriously?" Theo Nott, who usually did not speak to me - or anyone - asked, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. "I'd really rather my father did not go to Azkaban."

"If he was there that night, that means my father needs him," I told him, though I had no idea what or who you needed. "And he won't let anyone he needs get locked up."

His shoulders sagged in relief and I nodded back at him when he headed back to his lonely desk in the far back of the common room.  
Blaise appeared, basically out of nowhere, and sat down on the couch next to me. He had a knack for stepping out of shadows as if he was a freaking vampire.

"Why would you tell him that?" he asked. "You have never even seen your father."

"That's... true," I admitted. "But that's not what he needed to hear."

His eyebrows drew tightly together. "Since when do you care about Theodore Nott?"

"He's one of us, isn't he?" I said. "And he's scared for his family, why would I not offer some comfort?"

"You never comfort me when I'm scared for my family," he said, his tone vaguely accusatory, but his lips twitching into a smile.

I grinned back. "You're only scared you'll come home to Husband Number Eleven," I said.

"Well, Ten was Scottish," Blaise shot back. "What do you expect?"

Time continued to speed by, especially because the O.W.L.s were fast approaching. I was stressed, much like every other fifth year student, but not much worried - not even for Defence Against the Dark Arts, because Potter did a very good job at teaching us everything that Umbridge refused to.  
By mid-April, it seemed that I spent every bit of free time either in the library or in the Room of Requirement.

Harry had gotten us started on Patronuses, which was a lot harder than I had thought. He said that, in the safety of our well-lit room, surrounded by friends, it should be relatively easy, but it really was not.  
He said to just hold on tight to some happy little thought, but that was precisely the problem.

"What's your thought?" I asked him finally, when my Patronus still resembled a silvery blanket more than anything else.

"Uh," Potter said. "That's a pretty personal question, isn't it?"

I groaned. "It's just - it won't work!" I waved my wand impatiently and produced yet another veil of silver smoke. "I just don't know why!"

He cracked a smile at that. "You know, that's the first time I see you not be perfect." At my exasperated glance, he added. "I think of finding out I'm a wizard. How about that?"

I blinked at him. To this day, I do not know if he was honest with me or not, but even if he was not, he was aiming to give me a good idea. Trouble was, the day I had found out about being a witch had not been a happy one - it had also been the day that I learnt I descended from the evilest wizard who ever lived.

"I don't... I don't think that will work," I said.

He smiled awkwardly and seemed a little tortured, so I let him off the hook and waved any additional advise away. No one else could find a happy memory for me, either way.  
Harry walked off across the room towards Neville Longbottom and Lavender Brown, a loud and obnoxious Gryffindor girl. Slightly irked, I thought that I should definitely do better than the two of them.

There was a sudden commotion by the door. People fell silent and the Patronuses flying around the room flickered out. It was a House Elf, though the strangest one I had ever seen, who apparently wore any article of clothing it came across. It walked with small, shaky steps, but headed with obvious determination towards the middle of the room, where Harry stood.

"Harry Potter, sir," it squeaked. "Dobby has come to warn you... she...she..."

"Who's 'she', Dobby?" Potter asked, but we all knew who she was. "Umbridge?" The house elf tried to bang his head against the wall. "Is she coming?"

The house elf let out a terrifying howl. "Yes, Harry Potter, yes!"

There was a beat of silence in which everyone seemed to be frozen in terror. Then Potter yelled, "What are you waiting for? RUN!" And we did.

People were toppling over each other around the door, someone was actually screaming and Harry had picked up the house elf from the floor like a doll.  
If this room could become anything we wanted it to be, then why in Merlin's name did we not have an escape route?

I was already halfway on my way to the door when I spotted something that made my heart stop. The list. The list with all our names and the treacherous name sprawled all over, it was still hanging on the wall, left for the taking. If Umbridge came in here, we were all doomed.

Before I could think better of it - and it was one of the few moments when I acted before I could weigh my options - I started off in the exact opposite direction of my mistake.

"Cassie!" someone yelled, probably one of the Weasley twins, but I did not turn to look.

The parchment ripped as I plucked the list from the wall and it almost sizzled in my hand with its hidden magic. Had someone betrayed us, I wondered, someone on this list?  
I stared at the list, the names glaring up at me, my own glistening with the most tantalizing gleam from the bottom of the parchment.

" _Incendio!"_ I whispered and in my hands, the parchment lightened and burnt in to a crisp. Hissing when the heat licked at my fingers, I let go, watching the ashes drizzle to the ground in front of me.

The members of our group had scattered in every direction and now satisfied with what we left behind, I hurried after them. The corridors outside were still buzzing with students; I slipped in between two Hufflepuffs, passed a Ravenclaw, stepped around the corner-  
and bumped straight into Draco Malfoy.

His eyes widened as much as mine and my gaze slid down to his chest, where a plaque with a dark "I" - Inquistorial Squad, was that it? - was gleaming next to his prefect plaque.

"Cassie," he said softly. "Why are you here?"

"Why are you here?" I retorted. His eyes narrowed. "C'mon. Who told you?"

"Doesn't matter," he said. "Some Ravenclaw girl. Umbridge will really love to find you here."

Now, I will not deny it, for a short moment I thought that Slytherin loyalty had finally failed me; that he would drag me to Umbridge, throw me to the wolves. In that moment, I hated you more than ever for abandoning me - because if you had, from the beginning, been in contact, I would have had so much more sway, so much more authority over my classmates.

As it was, Draco for once found his conscience. His features softened and, with a look over his shoulder, he stepped aside. "Go," he said.

"Really?" I asked.

He groaned. "Don't make me question it."

My heart soared with sudden affection for him. I was tempted to hug him in thanks - but I kept myself from it, mostly because his eyes sparkled menacingly when he heard Potter's voice around the corner.

"Go," Draco repeated.

"Don't do anything you'll regret," I said.

His smile was broader than was fit for this occasion. "I won't."

I did not think that we had the same idea of what would be regretted and what would not, but I also knew that I did not have the time to dally. It was already luck that I had run into Draco and not Umbridge herself and if she caught me here, I would not get out of detention until the skin of my hand had scraped of completely.

I nodded to him and we parted; he sauntered around the corner I had come from and I hurried as fast as my legs could carry me along the hallway, down the stairs towards the safe haven of the dungeons.

Tracey threw herself at me the moment that I stepped through the door to the common room. Her arms tightened almost painfully around me and I patted her back, while my eyes locked with Blaise behind her back.

"Where were you?" he asked.

"The school's in disarray!" Tracey whined as I pushed her back so I could breathe. "Half the house is up and about - what happened?"

I swallowed hard. It had just become obvious what would happen if any of the DA's secrets were betrayed and I would certainly not risk further exposure by revealing anything, not even to my friends.  
"Something around Potter," I said. "Draco warned me in time."

Blaise's eyebrows rose so high that they disappeared underneath his fringe. "Draco warned you?" he repeated, disbelief dripping from his voice.

I rolled my eyes at him and did not dignify his question with a response. Granted, Draco had not truly warned me, but had let me go, which was basically the same - so, obviously, the idea was not as preposterous as Blaise pretended. _Slytherins_ , after all, would always stick to their own.

Tracey was so nervous that she could not go to sleep and kept Blaise and me awake with her. She paced up and down through the common room while waited in armchairs by the fire - waited for any sort of news.  
By now, I felt decidedly sick. Had Harry and his friends got away? Had Fred and George? Maybe they had caught Zacharias Smith, it would serve him well - but then, I suspected he would rattle of the list by heart to save his own skin.

The first members of the Inquisitorial Squad returned about an hour after my arrival. Greg Goyle had to talk around his own yawning, but he was obviously beaming with happiness.  
"We caught Potter!" he announced. "He'll never get on a broom again!"

I was close to vomiting right on his shoes.  
Tracey was swaying between happiness and horror. We hated Gryffindors after all, and Potter more than anyone, but she, too, hated Umbridge more than anyone and would not wish her punishment on anyone.

When Draco returned, another half an hour later, the worry about Harry Potter's punishment was wiped from our minds. His face had lightened with untarnished glee, his grey eyes alight with sheer happiness.  
"You'll never believe this," he said to the room, though his gaze was fixed on me. "But Dumbledore's gone."

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	8. Someone's Waiting For You

**Thanks to everyone who read, fav'd, alerted and most of all to NatyMVR and andpleasedontcry for reviewing!**

* * *

 **Someone's Waiting For You**

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It had not been intentional, but you might still appreciate this: it was my fault Dumbledore had to go.  
I had ripped the list with our names from the wall all right, but it had torn; and what had been left had still carried one line of writing: Dumbledore's Army in bold, large letters. It had been impossible for Umbridge and her cronies to miss.

Stories of Dumbledore's escape circled around school as rumours like these always did - the most prevailing one was that he had apparated in a cloud of smoke, which had to be wrong, because A) apparating does not cause smoke and B) no one can apparate inside of Hogwarts, not even Albus Dumbledore.

Harry might have known the truth - the idiot had gotten himself caught after all - but he did not share it with me. From the next morning on, it was obvious he and his friends blamed me.

"It can't be me," I told Ron Weasley as reasonably as I could when he voiced those thoughts. "I'm not spotted like Little Miss Traitor over there."

Indeed, Marietta Edgecombe sat with her head hung at the Ravenclaw table, attempting to hide the boils spread across her face. As if that was not bad enough, the little pimples clearly spelled out 'SNEAK'.  
Finally, I knew why the parchment had been spelled - it was a bit nasty, but I thought Hermione's trick to be quite brilliant.

"Oh, please," Weasley said, unimpressed by logic and common sense. "If anyone can trick that spell, it's you."

My assurances fell on deaf ears. When in doubt, even the most tolerant of the DA blamed the Slytherin rather than the obvious culprit.

"Look," I said. "I meant to take the whole list, it must have ripped unfortunately - at least she has no proof about anyone she didn't catch-"

Ron Weasley, his head stuck in his arse as always - pardon my French - turned around and left me standing alone like an idiot in the middle of the Great Hall.

Mind you, that was not the worst news issuing from this mess. No, it got much worse, because obviously that is what happens at Hogwarts.  
Umbridge became the headmistress. She had members of her Inquisitorial Squad positioned at almost every corner. She banned practically all groups, including the Gryffindor Quidditch team, which of course was good for Slytherin, but still left a bitter taste in my mouth. She sent even first years to detention, small eleven-year-old children having their hands scratched open by what she thought an appropriate punishment.

The only good part was that the castle seemed to detest her as much as its inhabitants did: the doors to Dumbledore's office had straight up closed and did not let her through, no matter how much she tried to and I thought it was hilarious.

Almost as hilarious as the Weasley twins, who seemed hell-bent on causing chaos. They set up fireworks all across the school, which had Umbridge hurry up and down because apparently, no one could get rid of them without her (Snape told her this was not his field of expertise with an expression as close to a real smile as I ever saw on him). They also shoved Graham Montague into a Vanishing Cabinet and while I was glad he turned up again a few days later - in a toilet on the fourth floor - he had probably deserved it.

The last thing, though - the last thing they did was a work of genius. I suspected there was a bit more to the story than was publicly known, but here's the rough draft: they turned the floor leading to Umbridge's actual office into a swamp. A real swamp, so students had to be carried across in a boat by Filch. Umbridge sometimes slipped into it, because it also seemed to expand.  
And as she caught them - the two got on their brooms and flew out of the school as if this was something they did on a daily basis.

The Weasley twins' reputation went from well-liked to worshipped in the blink of an eye, but I did not have time to participate in preserving their legacy. While others smuggled Nifflers into Umbridge's office or dropped Dungbombs, I was finally focusing on my OWLs.

I had never been particularly nervous about exams, but this was a very different matter. The results were actually important and almost every fifth year had a melt-down at some point or other.

For Tracey, it was basically every day. "Oh, you don't understand," she cried when I assured her she would be fine. "You'll just get O's and be done with it..."

I did not only get O's, just so you know, because I miserably failed Herbology and Umbridge had reserved her O's for members of the Inquisitorial Squad.  
Of course, she did not know that I had been a part of the DA, but I figured she suspected - she never asked for me to join her organisation. I never made any move either, though it might have been an advantage. There were some principles still left within me.

"I get good grades because I study," I said and tossed my copy of 'Intermediate Transfiguration' at her. "So stop moaning and do the same."

For a second, she looked like she might cry again, then her face suddenly brightened. "Thanks," she said and held up the book. "That's what I was looking for."

The week of the exams was the actual worst part - we padded from one exam to the library and then to the next test in some sort of endless caroussel of studying. By the end of it, even Blaise had dark circles under his eyes.

The last exam was History of Magic - it was not hard, but it was boring and I finished half an hour early. I sat, waiting to be allowed to leave when two rows in front of me, Harry Potter's head hit his desk with a resounding smack.

A few people turned to look at him, but ultimately returned to their exams when he did not stir again.  
I should have probably helped him instead, but I just could not resist. Before I could think better of it, I had whispered, " _Legilimens!"_ and delved deep into his mind.

 _He was walking through a dark room with high ceilings, filled with rows and rows of shelves, all of them stacked with small, misty orbs. He hurried along the rows, until he reached his goal: a dark, twisting figure on the floor, propped up half against one of the shelves._  
 _"Take it for me," a high, cold voice ordered. "Lord Voldemort is waiting..."_

 _The figure shifted, finally showing his face and my breath caught - I remembered the face, so clearly, from the newspaper articles two years before. Sirius Black._

 _"You'll have to kill me," Black said in a raspy voice._

 _"Undoubtedly..."_

Potter yelled suddenly and it catapulted me out of his head as if he had actively pushed me away. My world spun for a moment and when my eyes regained focus, Potter lay on the floor, surrounded by worried students and Professor Tofty, the designated examinant.

He had seen _you_... or rather, he had been you, had experienced you - I wondered if that had been first time and was suddenly feeling sick.  
Why did he get to see you? Why was it always him and never me? Why would you contact your worst enemy rather than your own daughter?

They escorted him outside on staggering feet and by the time that the exam time had finally expired, he was nowhere to be found.  
I cursed inwardly while people pushed past me, muttering angrily about me standing in the way. I had never been so close to you in my entire life - what if Potter actually knew where you were? Would he go looking for you? And - would he take me along?

"You look glum," Blaise noted later. We were on the way to the library later for the last time that year - we were returning our books. "Cheer up, will you?"

"It's just," I said, shaking my head slightly. "I'm thinking about Potter."

"Because he collapsed?" Blaise asked and suddenly grinned widely. "Isn't the first time, is it? As frail as he is, it's a right wonder he ever beat your father."

It was a right wonder - shame on you, I say with all due respect - but that was not my line of thinking at all. I bit my lip, debating on whether or not I would tell Blaise what was amiss, but ultimately decided against it. He did not need to know that I could potentially rummage through his mind. Which I did not do.

"Hey!"  
At first, it was just a voice and wild mane of red hair, but then I blinked and realized that Ginny Weasley was standing in front of me, her fist planted firmly on her hips.  
"You can't go along here," she announced. "Someone let off Garrotting Gas-"

"Someone?" I asked. "Or you?"

She raised her chin. "And what would you do if I did?"

I peered along the corridor - it was the one that held Umbridge's office, the one with the swamp just around the corner. No doubt it was as good a place as any for Garrotting Gas, but if this was not some set up, Ginny and Luna Lovegood behind her would not stand watch here.

"We should go through the third floor," Blaise said.

"Yeah," I said. "You do that, I'll be right behind you."

His eyebrows drew tightly together, but I gestured for him to leave and he finally did with a roll of his eyes. When I turned back to the girls, Ginny Weasley swallowed hard.

"I know a wicked Bat Bogey Hex and if I were you-"

Truth be told, no one wanted to be at the receiving end of Ginny's Bat Bogey hex. "What's Harry going to do?" I asked instead.

Ginny started spluttering, but Luna Lovegood just cocked her head to the side. "He's using Umbridge's fire to talk to his godfather-"

"LUNA!"

"His godfather?" I repeated before it suddenly clicked. "Sirius Black?"

Ginny was stammering even more now and even Luna looked slightly uncomfortable. My head was spinning - this was too much at once. Potter would not actually go after you - he would go make sure Sirius Black was going to be safe and if that meant battling you, then that could not be helped.

"What's going on here?"

The two girls blanched and I turned to find that Draco had turned the corner, a whole pack of fellow Slytherins directly behind him.  
It was a split-second decision, really. All I knew was that I did not want to be at Draco Malfoy's mercy again and I also did not want to be left out of whatever was going to happen next.

"I just caught these two letting of Garrotting Gas," I said. "I was thinking about deducting 50 points each."

Ginny hissed behind me, but my eyes remained fixed on the triumphant expression on Malfoy's face. He swaggered closer, looking around me to see Ginny and Luna more clearly.  
"We're not going to do _that_ ," he said silkily. "We're gonna take them to the headmistress."

A muffled scream sounded from behind him and Neville Longbottom jumped out from behind the corner and right at Cassius Warrington, two years our senior and built like a brick house. Warrington, great wizard that he was, punched the Gryffindor right in the face.

Ginny launched herself forward like some sort of wild cat. Draco's eyes widened in horror and he flailed his arms wildly to divert her.

" _Expelliarmus_!"

She stumbled when the wand hurtled out of her hand and I caught it effortlessly. She seemed about ready to fight me the Muggle way, but apparently decided against it. Milicent Bulstrode had plucked the wand out of Luna's hand in the meantime.

"Well," I said, and pulled Ginny to me by her arm. "Let's get these to Umbridge, then."

" _You_ want to-," Pansy started before I fixed her with a pointed glare.

"You don't have to come," I told her. "Not like you were any help."

She looked outrage, but I did not stay to hear what she had to say. Instead, I pushed Ginny forward in the direction of Umbridge's office.

"Traitor," she whispered to me.

"Indeed," I said. "But, you know, I really hate Umbridge."

Her eyes widened at me and then she suddenly grinned, the most wicked grin I had ever seen in my life.

Potter and Granger had already been caught in Umbridge's office. Draco collected their wands and Millicent Bulstrode pinned Hermione against the wall.  
Umbridge, herself, stood in the middle of the room, regarding Potter with a mad gleam in her eye. She turned when we ushered our own captives inside and her face suddenly brightened.

"Well," she chirped. "It looks as though Hogwarts will shortly shortly be a Weasley-free zone, doesn't it?"

Ginny glared back at her and I shook her slightly. "This one's tried to attack a fellow student," I said and then nodded to Neville, who was held fast in a choke hold by Vince. "That one, too."

"Good," Umbridge breathed. "I'm glad you brought them here, Miss Riddle... Now, Potter. You had your head in my fire. With whom have you been communicating?"

Harry raised his chin high in defiance. Before I could fathom what was happening, Umbridge had pulled her hand back and slapped him hard across the face. Granger whimpered and even I flinched. Neville Longbottom was slowly turning blue, but still struggling.  
A red print was forming on Potter's cheek, but he still kept his mouth firmly closed. Now, of all moments, he had to learn to hold his tongue.

"Very well," Umbridge said. "I have no alternative but to force you. Draco, fetch Professor Snape."

Harry's eyes widened slightly and Ginny twisted in my grip to exchange a worried glance with me.

Now, I'm not sure if I have made quite clear just how horrible a person Umbridge really was, but suffice it to say, you would have condoned her methods.  
She wanted Veritaserum. She had used it before. Veritaserum on students, can you imagine? I mean, you probably can, but still.

She was also terribly upset when Snape told her that, unfortunately, she had used it all up and it would take a whole month to make anew.

"You're on probation!" Umbridge shrieked. "You are being deliberately unhelpful!"

That certainly did not impress Snape, who appeared to be quite disinterested in the entire situation. He bowed, obviously in mockery, and attempted to retreat.

"He's got Padfoot!" Potter suddenly shouted and Snape halted in his steps. "He's got Padfoot at the place where it's hidden!"

The scene froze for a moment, Snape's hand still on the door handle, Neville still choking, Ginny completely motionless in my grip. Then, Umbridge shrieked: "Padfoot? What is Padfoot? Where is what hidden? What does he mean Snape?" and Snape, who very obviously knew exactly what Potter meant responded, "I have no idea."

Ginny slumped as if in defeat. Harry's mouth had dropped open and Hermione had pressed her eyes closed. The door closed behind Snape with finality.  
Umbridge looked stunned, but she caught herself and rounded on Potter again. "I am left with no alternative," she announced, more to herself than to anyone else. "This is an issue of Ministry security... You are forcing me, Potter, but the Cruciatus Curse ought to loosen your tongue."

Granger shrieked, Longbottom was twisting even more violently - and I knew that I could stay silent no longer.

"No," I said sharply.

Umbridge's already shivering wand suddenly pointed at me. "Do you question my authority, Miss Riddle?"

I squared my shoulders and pushed Ginny to the side. "Not only is this illegal, but with your limited knowledge of Dark Arts, it will likely do more harm than good."

She smiled again, the kind of smile that meant the absolute opposite of kindness. "You think you could do it better?"

"Most likely," I shot back - and tell you what, I would definitely have been better at it than her, though I never much favoured the Cruciatus Curse. "But I wouldn't lift my wand against a fellow student."

We glared at each other, because my implication was clear: I would not act against a student, but I would most certainly act against her if she made a wrong move.  
There I was, sixteen years old, the daughter of the Dark Lord himself, having to take the moral high ground over a Ministry official and teacher. It was as if the world was not quite right anymore.

Suddenly, Hermione let out a wail. "Harry, let's just tell her!"

Umbridge spun away from me and stalked over to where Millicent was still pressing Granger to the wall. Harry looked at his friend as if he had never seen her before.

"I'm sorry everyone," Hermione cried, making a great show of twisting out of Millicent's hold and sobbing into her hands. "We wanted to contact Dumbledore and tell him that it's ready..."

"That what's ready?"

Hermione looked up, not a single tear on her cheeks, but Umbridge did not seem to notice in her delight at finally making the girl crack.  
"The weapon."

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	9. Message in a Bottle

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* * *

 **Message in a Bottle**

* * *

I had seen Umbridge in various states of anger, but I had never seen her so delighted as when Hermione Granger told her that they had been building a weapon for Dumbledore and it was hidden in the Forbidden Forest.  
Her words had written 'bullshit' all over them, but Umbridge did not seem to notice. No, she was almost giddy with excitement when she hurled Granger up and ordered her and Potter show her the weapon. Harry appeared completely out of his element, but she did not notice that, either.

So, despite warnings from the Inquisitorial Squad and the muffled protests of Dumbledore's Army, Umbridge and the two Gryffindors left for the supposed weapon and told us to wait with the rest of her captives.

I know that, like, a page ago, I said I would not raise my wand against a fellow student, but you have to understand that that was very specifically about Unforgivable Curses and that was also very specifically in front of Umbridge.  
I remember you and I once had a conversation about _lying_ \- and I very clearly remember your very poetic take on it - play the innocent flower and so forth - and I remember that I did not agree with you that day. Inspecting my life more thoroughly, that seems ironic.

Either way, the moment I was sure that Umbridge had to be down the corridor already, I pressed Ginny Weasley's wand back into her hand and my own first Stunning Spell hit Draco square in the chest.  
He wailed and then tumbled to the floor. Warrington, again, seemed to think that a hands-down approach would be most practical. As he ran towards me, I disarmed him and took not only his wand, but those he had taken from others and Ginny sent a Bat-Bogey Hex at him. It hit him in the face and he started flailing, throwing his arms around like some poor imitation of a wind wheel.

Ron Weasley caught his wand out of the air and stunned Vince when the latter let go of Neville Longbottom - which turned out to be perfect, because Neville immediately sent an Impediment Jinx at Milicent Bulstrode, who got knocked back and stumbled over a very ugly, very pink plushed stool.

"They're going into the Forbidden Forest," Luna Lovegood announced, standing on her tip-toes to look out the window.

"Then let's go," I said.

"Whoa, hold up," Weasley said, waving his wand in my face. "Who said you're coming? You're-"

" _Ron,_ " his sister interrupted in a sharp tone. "She helped us."

"And have you wondered why she wants to come?" Ron shot back.

Here's the thing, though: I was not entirely sure why I wanted to come. Sure, I wanted to see you. Just for once, I did not want to be left out of the equation when Harry Potter faced you.  
Yet there was another thought in me, though it faded slightly at Weasley's harsh words - after this year, I felt sort of queasy letting these people walk into a hopeless situation like that. No matter what Potter thought in his bravado, he would be in way over his head before the day was over.

Potter, of course, did not see the reason in this line of thinking. When we arrived in the Forbidden Forest, Umbridge had been taken away by centaurs, who in turn had been chased off by a giant - calling Hogwarts a mess was an understatement. Relieved to see us healthy, Potter still refused to take us along.

" _We_ aren't doing anything," he said very firmly.

"Don't be stupid," I said. "You'll need every single one of us."

Judging by that Impediment Jinx, we might even need Neville Longbottom.  
Harry clearly did not think that a good idea - I suppose it honoured him, not wanting to put anyone else in danger, but Merlin was it a stupid sentiment - but no one budged and he grudgingly allow us to come.

Do you want to know something even stranger that happened that evening? Stranger, I mean, than a teacher being carried off by centaurs, pursued by a giant?  
We found a way to fly without brooms. Personally, I suggested apparating but no one else dared to without training (which, admittedly, might have been slightly unbecoming) and we found a way that was so much more uncomfortable.

 _Thestrals._  
Did you ever meet the thestrals? Even if you did, you would probably have been able to see them... I was not. The orphanage had done an okay job at keeping all of us alive and despite Hogwart's best efforts, I had never seen death. So I had to climb onto a flying animal that I could not see. At all.

"Afraid?" Ron Weasley mocked, but looked quite pale, himself.

"Well, excuse me for being weary of this thing," I shot back and the Thestral that I was sitting on - the bloody thing - nipped me in the leg.

I did not complain afterwards, not about the break-neck speed, not about the height at which we sailed across the country while night fell. Not even when the London lights became a blur as we passed through the streets. I was freezing, my fingers were hurting from clenching so hard around a bit of invisible mane, but I did not complain.  
Ron Weasley vomited when we hit the ground.

We entered through the Ministry's visitor entrance, which was strangely open even in the middle of the night. It is truly no wonder that they are always so easily overthrown.

We emerged in the Atrium, a vast hall lined with fireplaces, probably for Flooing, and dominated by a golden fountain. It showed a witch and wizard, looming high above the other figurines in the display.  
Of course, there is no argument for the monument you installed, please and thank you, but even this display made me sick to my stomach. I had not learnt about goblin revolts for nothing and knew that the adoring look on the creature's face was only owed to the creator's imagination.

The elevator that brought us to the Department of Mysteries rattled and screeched and I had the vague thought that it might be just fitting if we fell to our death in this thing.

"Okay, listen," Harry said when we were already halfway along the hallway. "Maybe... Maybe a couple of people should stay here as.. as a lookout-"

I clapped him gently on the shoulder. "Nice try," I said.

"We're coming with you," Neville added.

Here is to hoping that when you took over the Ministry, you shut the Department of Mysteries right down. I have never, in my life, seen a more illogical collection of rooms, made up like some booby-trapped labyrinth. The Triwizard's third task was child's play in comparison.

The first task was even getting where we wanted to be. From the corridor, we emerged into a circular room lined with identical doors that rotated whenever one of them closed. (Honestly, which crazy Ministry official decided that this was practical?) We saw a room with a glass tank full of floating brains, one centered around a whispering arch, one door just melted the blade of Potter's magical knife.

The next time the door opened, it was almost blinding. First, I could see nothing but the dancing, sparkling lights until my eyes adjusted and I found a room filled with shelves and shelves of small, sparkling orbs.  
I had only seen it once, and that only in someone else's mind, but there was no doubt that we had finally reached the right place.

"This is it!" Harry said urgently.

Goosebumps erupted on my skin as we entered, but only partly because it was freezing cold. This was not a good place - I knew it by the prickling at the back of my neck. There was something unsettling about it; perhaps it was the high ceiling, or the ominous flickering of candles lining the walls.

"Row Ninety-Seven," Potter reminded us in a hurried whisper. "Keep your wands out."

By now, my heart was pounding. It was not exactly fear - not the kind of fear the others felt, for their own lives and that of their loved ones - but it was surely nerves. Any moment, I might see you, for the first time in my entire life and no matter how hard I thought, I could not think of something to say.  
Would you even recognize me? I suddenly felt a little sick, wondering if you even cared. Maybe I _was_ afraid, after all.

"Ninety-Seven!" Hermione whispered.

There was nothing at row ninety-seven, which of course you know. There was nothing to see and absolutely no trace of anyone being there in the first place.

"He should be near here," Harry said. "Anywhere here... really close." It was futile, but he could not seem to believe it. He turned this way and that, peering around the shelves.. "He might be... Or maybe..."

The turning of my stomach had given way to crippling disappointment. You were not there.  
"Harry," I said gently. "Don't you think, if he was here - my father, I mean - we would sense it?"

He glared at me, but there was no way around it. Sirius Black was not here, and you were not here and we should definitely try and get out of here as quick as possible. Harry's vision might have been only a nightmare, but even as the thought entered my head, I doubted it.

"Harry," Neville Longbottom said suddenly, drawing Potter's eyes away from me. "This has your name on it."  
He pointed to one of the orbs. For the first time, I noticed that all of them were staffed with equally dusty, yellow slips of paper. Sure enough, Harry's name was printed on it - as was yours.

Before he could be stopped, Potter had wrapped his fingers around the orb and lifted it from the shelf.  
The prickling on my neck was back before I even heard the steps, or the voice.

"Very good. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me."

For all their obvious failures, your Death Eaters at least knew how to make a dramatic entrance. Congratulations. Personally, I think you should have invested more in effective training than in threatening robes, but that might be a personal preference.  
Also, what is the point of masks when voices are so easily recognizable? I would probably have recognized Lucius Malfoy's drawl even under water.

"To me, Potter," he repeated, gesturing for the orb.

My fingers tightened around my wand as Harry squared his shoulders. "Where's Sirius?" he demanded.

Several of them laughed and I hissed, "He's not here, Potter, focus!"

Mr Malfoy stepped forward again. "It's time you learned the difference between life and dreams," he said silkily. "Now give me the prophecy, and no on need get hurt."

Prophecy? My mind wrapped around the word like a boa around their prey - the orb was a prophecy? Did that mean...? Involuntarily, my eyes strayed, up the shelves, taking in the thousands and thousands of orbs stacked in this room.

"Right," Harry laughed. "I give you this and you'll just let us skip off home, will you?"

"Hand it over," Lucius demanded. "Or we start using wands."

Potter's mouth had already opened in response when I pushed him slightly to the side. My wand pointed straight at Malfoy's face and even under the mask, I could see his eyes widen slightly.  
Of course, he knew me - I had spent Christmas with his family, he had lent me money for school supplies more than once; money that I had yet to pay back. Of course, he knew exactly who stood before me.

"I wouldn't do that," I said pointedly.

One figure to my left suddenly screeched, a high but rough tone that sounded like insanity. "Step aside, foolish girl-"

I whirled around, coming to a halt when my wand pointed at her. "Bellatrix Lestrange, I assume?"  
As everyone else, I had read the headlines earlier that year, about the miraculous escape and how the Ministry assumed Sirius Black was behind it. Obviously, I now knew that this was not the case, but it was still not hard to guess who this mad woman was.  
"I'm not impressed."

She stepped forward, one hand rising with her wand, the other lifting to pull of the hood. Her face was hollow, cheekbones protruding sharply and her skin looked a bit like old parchment, but her eyes were sparkling still.

"Who do you think you-?"

"Bella," Malfoy interrupted sharply. "That is Cassandra."

A murmur went through the group of Death Eaters while my friends drifted closer together behind me.  
"Oh good," I breathed. "At least you're talking about me."

To this day, I do not know what you said to them off me. Did you foresee I would encounter your henchmen at one point or other? Or did you speak fondly, did you ask after me? Did you talk to Lucius Malfoy, your only link?  
Or was it some sort of delusion of grandeur, where you announced I would join you, as powerful and as glorious as you yourself? Was that the reason that, despite never meeting me before, I could see some of the Death Eaters back up when my gaze turned to them?  
Did you know I would be there?

"So," Harry said while my wand still wandered from one figure to the other. "That prophecy - how come Voldemort wants it?"

The reaction was just as surprised as that to my name, but it was a lot more vicious. Several of them hissed lowly. Bellatrix rounded on us immediately, and came so close my wand almost pressed into her collarbone.

"You dare speak his name?" she whispered before she suddenly snapped. "You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your halfblood's tongue-"

"Did you know he's a halfblood, too?"

Bellatrix does a very fine job of guarding herself against Occlumency, though I am sure you can crack her - but her thoughts are sometimes easily displayed even so. In this case, I saw it in her face before she even raised her wand.

" _Stupe-"_

" _Impedimenta!"_

She was knocked backwards, eyes almost comically wide and landed in the shelf behind her with a heavy thud. Glass orbs rained down above her as the shelf swayed, clattering downwards and splintering all across the floor.  
Now, we finally got to see their true power - ghostly figures rose from the pieces, speaking with soft, echoing voices, melting together and dancing around each other as dozens of them revealed their message at the same time.

Here is one of the few good things about Gryffindors: they do not hesitate. Behind me, Harry and Hermione had realized the potential for escape and before I knew it, six different voices yelled out, " _Reducto_!" and all around us, hundred of spheres exploded, raining glass down on us as the white figures unfurled and sermoned and the shelves swayed.

"RUN!" Harry yelled - and we did, as fast as our feet could carry us.

Neville Longbottom staggered in front of me and I had to jump aside to avoid him. A cry sounded from behind me, and I colluded with Luna Lovegood who fell into me.  
I hit the floor with an 'oomph' and when I rolled onto my back, saw one of the shelves descending on us.

It was almost over right then and there, let me tell you. If it had not been for the blonde girl right next to me on the floor, we would have never met. Would you have regretted that?

My eyes pressed tightly closed, as if my body wanted to shut out reality and I prepared for the blow. It would surely hurt. I had not even said goodbye to Tracey and Blaise. I had promised him that I would be right behind him and now I would never be back.

" _Wingardium Leviosa!_ "

The glass orbs splattered around us, one of the splinters cut my cheek open, but that was all. When my eyes opened again tentatively, I found the shelf hovering above us, directly on the tip of Luna Lovegood's wand.

My head turned so I could look at her and she smiled, as if in wonder. "Good," she said dreamily. "I wasn't sure that would work."  
Then she flicked her wand and the shelf landed with a heavy thud right by our side.

"That was brilliant," I alleged.

When we picked up, all our comrades had gone and it was awfully quiet. A quick _Lumos_ at least allowed for better vision, but they were still not to be found.

"Let's just find the exit," I said. "They've probably made it already."

"I wouldn't be so sure!"

Luna shrieked as she was pulled back into a dark figure, another Death Eater mask glaring at me. He had come out of nowhere, stepping out of darkness like the Grim Reaper himself.

"Let her go," I demanded.

"The Dark Lord will be disappointed."

And that was when I snapped. This entire thing, this trap, your absence - and this man had the nerve to tell me what you were not here to say.  
I had never used an Unforgivable before, but in that moment, it seemed so logical, so reasonable.  
I whispered, " _Imperio!"_ and knew instantly that it worked, perhaps because in that moment, I wanted nothing more than for it to work.

Your henchman froze and the only movement came from Luna trembling in his grip.

"Let her go," I ordered again and this time, my command was followed. "And now _go_ and tell my father I am done waiting for him."

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	10. The Only One He Ever Feared

**Thanks to everyone who read, fav'd, alerted and to xxSorenxx and Isabeaux3 for reviewing!  
Important chapter ahead, enjoy :)**

* * *

 **The Only One He Ever Feared**

* * *

The Death Eater vanished much like he had appeared - making it as if he had never quite been there - and left me and Luna panting from the scare.

"You shouldn't have done that," she told me, shaking her head slightly. "That was an Unforgivable Curse!"

She was right, of course, but I squared my shoulders with a feeling swaying somewhere between affection and a defiant sense of responsibility. "And if I had to kill them all to get you out of here," I said, and meant it. "I would do it."

Weary of meeting yet another foe, we proceeded slower this time, but finally found a door that would allow us to escape - or at least so we hoped. I sent Luna through first and locked the door behind us. I almost missed her little, astonished 'Oh!'.  
It was the chamber with the stone arch that we had briefly visited before. Before I knew it, Luna had started descending the steps towards the arch.

"Do you hear them?" she asked softly.

"Luna," I said. "We're clearly in the wrong place, let's go on-"

Even as she walked on - and I followed, afraid that something terrible might happen still - another door flew open and Harry toppled in, flying down the stairs more than anything else.  
Luna shrieked and ran to meet him, but my eyes had found something a lot worse: the Death Eaters that had followed him, Bellatrix Lestrange leading the group.

"Potter, your race is run," Lucius Malfoy announced as he, too, walked down the stairs, pulling of his mask in the process. "You see, there are ten of us and only three of you."

I had reached Harry and Luna in that very moment and turned my wand at Malfoy. "Not another step."

He sneered. "The Dark Lord cares more about the prophecy than about your health, girl."

Tell you what, he was probably right. I'm even past taking it bad on you - there is so much to take badly, and I am exhausted. He was not sure, though, I could feel it. Much as always, Malfoy was making things up as he went along.

"You may be right or you may be wrong," I said. "Do you really want to be the one who finds out?"

"Foolish girl!" This time, it was Bellatrix who spoke and she did it with more conviction. "You know nothing of the Dark Lord-"

"I just sent one of your friends to him," I shot back. "So I guess we'll know soon enough."

She blanched, much to my satisfaction, probably because they had not done very well so far. They never do, though, do they? Sure, they cause some mayhem, but do they ever actually accomplish anything? You could have done better than them, frankly.

"Cassie," Potter said behind me. "It's fine... Let the others go and I'll give it to you-"

"DON'D GIB ID DO DEM!"  
Neville Longbottom had apparently picked himself up somewhere behind our backs and was bolting downstairs. He was bleeding profusely from the nose.

Lestrange's eyes were gleaming even more madly. She had whipped her wand before anyone knew what happened and next thing I knew, Neville was writhing on the floor, screaming his pain.

 _"Avada Kedavra!"_  
My curse sailed past Bellatrix' face, but barely, as intended. She whirled, her upper lip curled back into an ugly sneer.

"Why, you dare-"

"Don't think I wouldn't do it," I said, this time aiming straight at her. "Because I will."

Here is how it went: she hated me for the rest of her miserable life, and I would not have it any other way. Sometimes, I wish I had done it that day. I could not have made myself more unpopular with your crowd, either way, and maybe that would have at least earned me some respect.

"Cassie," Harry begged, but I just shook my head. Call it pride or foolishness or just mad hope, but I thought we stood a better chance if we did not back down. You are aware of that particular streak of mine, of course.

Above us, two doors burst suddenly open.  
Spells rained down at once, before I could realize what had happened. I even recognized some of our rescuers: Sirius Black looked slightly cleaner than he had in the pictures from years ago, and Professor Lupin, in turn, looked more worn-down.

Harry grabbed me by the arm and pulled me away, finally breaking the tense stance. Neville was crawling along the floor, bleeding onto it from his nose and Luna was making her way back up the stairs, ducking as well.  
It was probably better if they stayed down, because spells were flying around madly.

A spell hit right between us, the floor exploded, and when I picked myself up from the rubble, Potter had been seized. One of your Death Eaters had grabbed him by the neck and he was standing on tip-toes to not suffocate.

"Give it to me," the man hissed.

"Harry!" I called, holding out my hand. He got it at once. I was never a good catch, not like he was - youngest Seeker e _ver_ , can you imagine? He had always been quite a vision on a broom - but I caught the orb when he threw it to me.

The Death Eater let go of him at once, now stalking at me. And here is what I did, perhaps the smartest and stupidest thing I had done so far: I just threw it to the ground.  
Your minion howled and lunched forward, but it was too late. The prophecy shattered, the white creature that inhabited it rose from its remains, but could not be heard over the general chaos.

It was as if he was shouting his intentions at me before he acted. I yelled, ' _Protego!'_ even as he raised his wand, but would not have had to.  
Behind me, Neville Longbottom had hurled himself to his feet and stumbled forward - and, with a muffled scream-groan, stabbed the Death Eater right in the eye with his wand. Actually, he might have missed it, but either way the man let out a pained howl and crumbled.

"Thanks!"

"Cassie!" Harry had reached us again, panting heavily. "You need to grab Neville and go, we left the others-"

"I'm not leaving you alone in a fight!" I shot back.

His eyebrows drew together, but he was shortly distracted - the Death Eater had got up already, still holding a hand to his head, but aiming again.  
" _Petrificus Totalus_!"  
Arms and legs snapped together and our opponent finally keeled over.

"Good one," I complimented.

"Seriously, you need to-"

"We're in this together," I said. "There's no backing out anymore."

Besides, I had called for you. I knew I had, and I knew you would be here. Anytime now. You had to be - and when you came, they would be in a lot more trouble and it would be my fault. If the behaviour of your henchmen was anything to go by, though, I would at least give you a pause. Depriving the others of that chance would be more than cowardly.

A green light sailed past us suddenly and we all dropped to our knees to avoid it. It had been Lucius Malfoy, who was still facing us with a murderous expression on his face.

" _Stupefy!_ "

By some miracle, it hit him and he dropped, much like his son had earlier that day. I suddenly felt a little sick - I had known this man for years, he had helped me out, welcomed me into his home. Of course, that was only because he wanted to be safe, should you come back, but still.

"Draco will be upset with you," Potter prophesied next to me.

"That's the least of my problems," I said, and was right. By the time I would talk to Draco again, we would both have our minds on other things than a Stunning Curse I once sent at his father.

"Come on," a voice suddenly called clear across the fighting and Harry froze next to me. "You can do better than that!"

Sirius Black was duelling Bellatrix Lestrange and they were more than even. Fighting to kill and both obviously delighting in it. Jets of red light were thrown back and forth, the occasional green mixed in for good measure.  
Bellatrix' face was grim, determined - and Sirius Black, you may wonder? He was laughing. He was laughing in his last moments and it had not quite faded when Lestrange caught him square in the chest.

It was just a Stunning Spell, but he stumbled backward, his body curved, and he fell right through the arch in the middle of the room. He never hit the ground on the other side.

There was a beat of silence, then Harry roared beside me and jumped up to bolt after Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Harry, no!" I yelled, knowing that in that state, he would not stand the slightest chance against her. He did not listen. He ripped from my grip and pushed Professor Lupin away.

Meanwhile, Bellatrix was singing _. I killed Sirius Black!_

So this is how we met.

Me, dashing off after your arch-nemesis, desperate to catch him before he did something stupid - and you, rushing to meet us because your minions had already done something stupid.  
Funnily enough, you had been on my mind the entire night. All throughout, I had wondered if and when we would meet, my heart had pounded at the thought - but when we finally did meet, the only thing on my mind was that I would definitely not let Bellatrix Lestrange win.

Potter was a considerable bit faster than I was and so, when I reached the Atrium, he was already battling her, creeping around the fountain as they went at it.

" _Crucio!"_

She screamed as she was knocked back, but it was obvious that the curse did not have the desired effect. In fact, she laughed.  
"Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you?" she yelled. "You need to mean them, Potter! You need to really want to cause pain - to enjoy it..."

"Shut up," I ordered. I had finally reached Harry and he flinched when I put a hand on his shoulder. "Or I'll have a go at it."

"You cannot win against me!" she seethed, getting back to her feet and whipping her hair back. "I was and am the Dark Lord's most loyal servant. I learned the Dark Arts from him and I know spells of such power that you, pathetic girl, can never hope to compete-"

" _Stupefy!"_ Harry yelled, but we both had to duck immediately as she deflected the spell. We landed behind the goblin statue of the fountain, listening for the sound of her footsteps.  
When I glanced at Harry, I barely recognized him; he was pale and shaking, his eyes red-rimmed with unshed tears and yet he looked so murderous that I almost shrank away.

"Potter, I am going to give you one chance!" Bellatrix yelled. "Give me the prophecy and I may spare your life."

"It's gone!" I shouted back. "I smashed it... bet my father's not going to be happy with you!"

You were not. You were anything but happy.

"LIAR!" she shrieked, desperation creeping into her voice. "YOU'VE GOT IT - _Accio_ Prophecy! _ACCIO_ PROPHECY!"

Harry laughed, a terrible, cold sound, full of mad satisfaction. "Nothing there!" he called. "Nothing here to summon!"

There was a beat of silence, when it seemed like we had finally broken her - and perhaps we had, a little bit, at least for that time. Then, she started begging. _Master,_ she would call. _Master, I tried, I tried-_

I got up, to see her on her knees, wringing her hands together as if in prayer - and Harry, behind me, called out to her again, "Don't waste your breath, he can't hear you from here!"

"Can't I, Potter?"

There you were.

I whirled around, my wand ready and for the first time ever, we stood face to face.  
You were nothing like the picture of your school years that I had once been shown - you had been handsome there and were terrible now. That snake-like face, the gleaming eyes, the ghostly-pale skin; I was struck in that moment by the thought that you were not completely human. I did not know then how right I was.

For a long, terrifying moment, I wondered if you even recognized me - after all, you had never seen me before and my skin was darker than yours, my eyes a different sort of brown than you ever had and hell, I was sure that your hair had been jet-black back in the day and mine was definitely brown.

\- and then you said my name, softly, carefully, as if you were tasting it on your tongue. "Cassandra..."

\- and my wand lowered even without my conscious decision.

"You called for me," you said.

"I figured I had waited long enough."

Had I not? Almost sixteen years had I waited for you to come for me, after you had disappeared to kill the very boy at my side - I could feel his movement next to me and prayed that he would not do anything stupid right now.

"Master!" I groaned as Bellatrix threw herself at your feet "I am sorry, I was fighting the Animagus Black, Master-"

"Be quiet Bella," you ordered and she fell miraculously quiet. "I shall deal with you in a moment."

She was still snivelling, protesting under her breath, and for the first time, I did not only think her mad, but actually quite pathetic. She was not much without you, was she?

You were ignoring her, though - instead you eyed me yet again, head to toe, before you turned abruptly away. Harry had snuck around us now, putting some distance between him and you, but clearly not enough. You found him with terrifying ease

"I have nothing more to say to you, Potter," you announced quietly. "You have irked me too often, for too long-"

"WAIT!"

" _Avada Kedavra_!"

I screamed, I launched myself forward - I even contemplated tackling you, can you imagine? (Do you think it would have worked? Because I think it might have.) - but I need not have worried about Harry.  
One of the statues of the fountain had jumped from his position, rushing to shield Potter from the attack. It landed square between you and him and the curse merely sprung back from its chest and shot off into the dark.

I almost stumbled over Bellatrix in my surprise just as you whirled around.  
It was Professor Dumbledore, standing as calm as could be by the fountain. I did not know when he had arrived, or why he was here in the first place - no one had seen him since the day the DA had been discovered, after all - but he had come just in the nick of time.

You hissed, much like a snake, and sent another deathly curse in his direction. Dumbledore had disappeared before it even slightly reached him.

"Bellatrix," you ordered. "Take my daughter and go."

"What?" I said. "No!" Bellatrix was already on her feet, nearly by my side when I recoiled. "Touch me, and I swear you'll regret it."

That day, I also learned that my word, as much as it meant sometimes and to some people, meant nothing when it stood against yours. She did not even hesitate to grab me by the arm and pull me away, towards the fireplace at the backside of the Atrium.  
I called out - stupidly, in retrospect, for you. I called out with the stupid notion that there was such a thing as changing your mind, as swaying your opinion.

You were focused on Dumbledore, though, who had reappeared and started and almost casual conversation - he called you _Tom_ and I remember thinking that you were not a Tom, and nothing like the boy Dumbledore was referencing.

I cried out again, and for the first time, Dumbledore seemed to notice me and Bellatrix' steady pull towards he exit. He sent one of the statues my way, the centaur galloping with thundering hooves towards us - and Bellatrix hissed behind me just as you had.

"Well, I wanted to go the nice way," she said.

"Wait," I said. "I don't want to-"

She did not care. She turned on the spot, a sharp tug behind my navel pulled me forward - and just like that, she had taken me away.

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	11. Sympathy for the Devil

**Thanks to everyone who read, fav'd, alerted and especially to andpleasedontcry, Isabeaux3, BRITISH VAMPIRE and xxSorenxx for reviewing - it's been a stressful week, so I couldn't respond to y'all, but I very much appreciated your comments!**

 **Enjoy the new chapter!**

* * *

 **Sympathy for the Devil**

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I remember, so clearly, the way I paced up and down that night, waiting for you to come home (Did you call this your home? Do you actually know what is to have a home? Because actually, it was Theodore Nott's home, and if anything, you were an honoured guest.), waiting for news, waiting perhaps, for someone from the Ministry or Potter's friends to rush in and attempt to rescue me.

I almost _wanted_ them to.  
Bellatrix was eyeing me suspiciously, every single step that I took, for about two hours - perhaps also because my hand was still bleeding. One of my fingers had splintered when she had taken me along for apparition and I refused to let her, or anyone else in this house, touch me.

Eventually, she sent me to a back-room, or rather she dragged me there - did this woman ever hear of cutting her fingernails? Sweet Merlin, she is a disgrace. It was an office-like room, but it at least had a couch in it that I could settle down on.  
That, of course, did not provide much comfort when I heard the lock click. Ironic, is it not, that wizards can come up with so many ways to lock things and break curses, but are defeated by a key in a hole.

First, I was moving about the room, pacing much like I had before, but careful not to touch anything - whoever this belonged to, I did not want to rummage through it.  
I had to settle in the end. The couch was one of those ancient pieces that look elegant but are absolutely uncomfortable. As I laid on it, I wondered what Theo Nott would do, now that his mother was dead and his father.. well, at the very least, he had not returned to his own house that night. I might have hurt the man, myself.

Things had moved so fast in the past few hours, I had never stopped to think about what I was doing- stupefied my own people in Umbridge's classroom, however deserved - attacked their fathers, with the certain attempt to hurt, to disable, hell, I would have killed them if that was what it took, I had promised Luna so much; and I had meant it.

Merlin, they would hate me from now on... so much for being a great leader. My stomach twisted at the thought of Blaise and Tracey - would they, at least, understand?

I slept fitfully, drifting in and out of consciousness more than actually finding rest. _You_ , you were on my mind, until, in one particularly abhorrent fit, it was actually Bellatrix, her mad, murderous laughter echoing through my mind.

I woke because you were moving about the room. I had always figured you would dress more casually in private, but there you were, still in long, flowing, black robes.  
I sat up slowly, brazing my arms against the couch as you stood by the window, your ghostly pale fingers resting lightly on the sill.

"You destroyed my prophecy," you said airily, almost as if it did not matter. We both knew it mattered very much.

"I was being attacked," I said. "I had to keep me and my friends safe."

You cocked your head to the side, though you did not look at me. I felt suddenly queasy. Your minions' behaviour had not been lost on me - I suddenly wondered if you were going to torture me in punishment. Or worse.

"It was very important to me," you added, still in that conversational tone that implied none of this truly mattered.

"So is my life to me," I shot back and thought that it should be important to you, too. I also thought that a father and daughter should have a very different first conversation. Do you not agree? I like to think that you imagined this differently, too, but I have to say: the ball was in your court, if you forgive me my Muggle expressions.

You had turned slightly, so that I could see your profile, and perhaps so you could gauge my reaction.  
"And Harry Potter's?" you demanded.

You would not have like the truth. Yes, Harry's life was important to me, because we had been there together and I did not let any of my own people get murdered, not even by my own father.  
I figured, though, that telling you this would not be the best idea. You had been calm so far, but I was sure you were actually livid. So I decided that I needed to give the conversation a bit of a turn.

"Did you kill him?" I asked.

Your lip curled. "Unfortunately not. Instead, I lost most of my Death Eaters to Azkaban."

My stomach dropped slightly. How would I explain this to Draco or Vince or Theo that their fathers had now been locked away in this godforsaken place and I had not only not helped them, but actively sent them on their way?  
"They're an incompetent lot, anyway," I said instead.

You approached me, facing me properly for the first time. The flick of your wand made me cringe, but nothing bad happened. In fact, the skin on my hand knit back together, the lost flesh replaced as if it had never been different. I regarded the healed hand in awe, blood still crusted around the former wand.

"You worry about your friends."

It took me a moment, I'm sure you could see the stupefied look on my face, but then I realized where the sudden turn of conversation had come from.

"I would have you stay out of my head."  
To his day, I do not know how I had been so bold. It would have probably been smarter to be a little more compliant, but having you rummaging through my head - I could not stand it.

"Maybe you should guard it better, then," you said, taking a few steps towards me. "I hoped for better."

"All things considered," I said. "I don't think I'm doing that bad."

You never said that you did not want to abandon me. You never said that you wanted to return, or thought about me - or, Merlin forbid, that you had missed me.  
In that moment, it felt like it was on the tip of your tongue. Of course, I might have imagined it, and even if you had said it, I would not have believed it.

"I'll have Bellatrix teach you," you said finally.

"No," I said. "I will not have that fool of a woman attempt to teach me anything."

You know, one of the things that I admired about you - not that I _liked_ it, mind you, I absolutely hated it when you did it to me - is that you were able to keep your expression completely blank. Anger or pleasure? Hatred or joy? It was impossible to tell. I tried it myself, many many times, but I do not think that I ever managed it quite as you did.

It was one of those times; you would regard me for minutes on end without so much as a twitch, and I would fidget underneath your gaze, trying to figure out what you were thinking, which was _impossible_.

You crossed the room until you finally stood in front of the couch. I had to crane my neck upwards to see your face.  
"I expect... obedience."

"And I a bit of sanity," I shot back. "I suppose Bellatrix and I would not make for the best team, then."

You smiled - and despite it being twisted, and more a smirk than real smile, I smiled back. Perhaps, I thought in that moment, perhaps things were not that bad. Perhaps this could be _something_.

"Very well, then," you said. "I will teach you. And we shall see how you do with Curses. Your Imperius was quite impressive."

So you did get it. My message, of course, the Death Eater I sent was not an 'it'. Or so I thought.  
"I did my best."

"Your best was mediocre," you said at once. "Why is that funny?"

My smile did not fade. "Because I do the same thing," I said. "When I try to get my friends to study."

It was one of quite a few similarities I noticed over the next weeks. There were little mannerisms, say, in the way you held your wand or the way your lip curled when people bugged you. It was the way you preferred to study late at night and by a fire, perhaps reminiscent of old common room was the way you were merciless when you wanted to improve - or when you wanted someone else to improve.

I did not return to Hogwarts, though the school year was still running. You did not want me to and I had no desire to face the music just yet.  
Instead, I spent my days studying as I saw fit, with the occasional instruction from you - Dark magic, that wrapped around the soul and came out like a deep, satisfying sigh; dangerous, if you wanted it to be and constructive when you willed it so, but always powerful.  
My occlumency skills were, as it turned out, not as terrible as you thought. It was more that you were too good at Legilimency, rather than I too bad at defending myself. Against every one else, of course, my mind was soon guarded as if by a fortress. Impenetrable. Majestic.

The last days of June approached too quickly for my liking and I found myself, inevitably, at the door to the office you had chosen as yours.

"Why do you disturb me?"

You had not looked up and I had moved as quietly as I could, so you were probably still reaching out for my mind. I swallowed my displeasure at it down and got to the point instead.  
"The holidays are almost there."

"So?"

"So, the orphanage is expecting me back." Not that I wanted to go back, of course - I imagine foster care was a lot worse in your time, and I honestly could not complain about _mistreatment_. Yet it had never been home. Not like Hogwarts had been.

"Those Muggles need not expect anything from you."

" _Those Muggles_ ," I reiterated. "Are going to send out the police if I don't show up. So either I'm going back or someone has to sort things out with them. Confund them, I mean, not kill."

Your lip curled. It had been two minutes and you were already exasperated with me. Of course, I already knew of your temper, though I had never had to suffer it until now. I did not particularly care to, either - you had had Bellatrix screaming for hours because she had let the Prophecy get destroyed.  
Sheer dumb luck, I suppose, that it did not hit me that instance, no matter how often she cried _'It was her! It was her!'_

"Do it yourself," you ordered.

"I can't," I said. "I have the Trace still on me, the minute I use magic outside the house, the Ministry is going to descend on me with a fury."

Indeed, the newspapers, especially the Prophet, were speculating about where I had gone - no matter if I had been dragged into the fire kicking and screaming. They wrote about my allegiance, my supposed secret plans, my involvement in your cause. All of it rubbish.  
I was just lucky enough that Dumbledore had officially gone on record to say that I would be welcome at Hogwarts at any time, but if I was spotted bewitching Muggles, I would never see Hogwarts again.

"Besides," I said. "Theo will want his home back."

Your eyes sparkled curiously. "He shall be glad to host the Dark Lord, and his daughter."

"His mother's dead, and we've sent his father to Azkaban," I shot back. "Now we're occupying his house? It's frankly inappropriate that we're even here now."

"You care too much about your followers."

"How can I not?" I asked, genuinely curious. You did not care - you probably never cared, and they still followed you. Today, I know it was fear. Fear, and the occasional delusion of grandeur. It was never admiration, or trust, or - Merlin forbid - love. "How can I ask them to follow if I will not lead? I did a terrible job of it this summer, and the least I can do is give Theo some privacy."

You contemplated, in that way you did, silently, unreadable - and then you turned back to your desk. "We will stay here," you announced. "And I'll send someone to that Muggle place."

"No killing," I said, and was struck with the thought that someone else might have suffered your wrath for such words. Others had been killed for less.

No one was killed at the orphanage, at least that I knew of. All I knew was that a man named Yaxley had gone off and reported back to me that no one even remember that I had ever been in that place.

Theo returned, pale but much more upright than I would have expected. He accepted us as graciously as you had proclaimed he would, though it was most likely just a facade.

When we were alone, he only spoke to me once. "Blaise says you should write to Tracey," he told me with a blank face. "She's worried sick."

I wrote to Tracey, who was elated that I was in fact still alive - _I was sure you'd fallen off that Thestral, they talk about that dangerous trip all the time_ \- and I wrote to Blaise, who never answered me.  
First I thought that he might have been on vacation and too busy to answer, but as September approached, it became obvious that he remained silent on purpose.

I met Tracey in Diagon Alley, where I was only allowed to go with three of your cronies, who I thought were doing a very poor job of being inconspicuous. She nodded sympathetically when I told her of Blaise's silence.  
"He's really upset with you," she said in a hushed voice, as if everyone was listening in on a sixteen year old's friendship troubles. "For disappearing out of the blue."

Worst of all, _you_ were listening in on a sixteen year old's friendship troubles - either you had your Death Eaters report back to you or plugged the information straight from my thoughts (or both) - and told me very sternly that I should pay attention to more important matters.  
It was perhaps that day that I learnt not to come to you with matters of the heart.

Here's another thing that I did not come to you with: in late August, mere days before my return to Hogwarts, my pre-bed routine was interrupted by a harsh, desperate knock on the door.

It was Draco Malfoy, pale, with dark bags under his eyes and dry lips. He stepped past me without a word, glanced around the room, and then said, in a terrified voice that I had never heard from him before: "I need your help. And you can't tell anyone. Not even the Dark Lord."

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	12. Here Comes Trouble

**Thanks to everyone who read, fav'd, alerted and especially to Lunaterre224, xxSorenxx and leeshuwen for reviewing!**

* * *

 **Here Comes Trouble**

* * *

I paced up and down in my bedroom - or rather, one of the rooms Theo could now spare - while Draco had sat down in an armchair and watched ever step I took like a hawk. For someone who had come here with a desperate plea for help, he was curiously calm. Infuriatingly so.  
I glowered at him whenever my steps carried me past him and he released a heavy sigh.

"Cassie-"

"Tell me then," I hissed, as quietly as I could. Of course, I had spelled the door so the room would be soundproof, but I could not help being paranoid. Not when you were in the same house and probably wide awake. (You were, after all, awake at the most curious of times - sometimes, I wondered if you even slept.) "Tell me how I am supposed to keep this secret."

He swallowed, his jaw working, and he would not meet my eyes. "You're usually good at keeping secrets."

"Not from the Dark Lord!" I shot back. "Do you have any idea-? You weren't supposed to tell me, you were not supposed to ask for help-"

"No," he said bitterly, finally looking up. "No, I'm supposed to kill Dumbledore by myself. Or rather, I'm supposed to fail."

He was right, was he not? We fought about it, later, you and I, because it is impossible to keep secrets for however long. In that moment, though, I fooled myself into believing that the impossible might be possible. Because it was Draco sitting in front of me, and beneath all the desperation and terror, there had been a glint of hope when he turned to me. I had to live up to that.

"All right," I said and sat down on the bed. It bounced slightly, even under my moderate weight. "Walk me through it again."

"He wants to take over Hogwarts," Draco said. "Your - I mean, the-"

"My father," I interrupted and felt suddenly outraged. Could you not have left Hogwarts alone? Hogwarts, my home - _your home_. Could you not have let it be the happy place it was supposed to be for all of us?

Draco watched me with a curious look on his face, something almost akin to pity. I did not want that and did not need it either - there was nothing to be pitied about.  
You are my father and, Merlin, I was proud of it. After all, you were one of the most powerful wizards that had ever lived. You were Slytherin's heir. Yes, I was scared of you - sometimes, often times - but I was also proud to be your daughter.

I gestured for Draco to continued and he shook himself as if to wake up properly. "He wants to take Hogwarts... so I need to find a way to get the Death Eaters inside... and he wants Dumbledore dead."

You truly set an impossible task for a lone, sixteen year old.  
"So, a two-part problem," I said. "We should go about this systematically."

"Right, I did have an idea," Draco volunteered. "Remember the Vanishing Cabinet from the fifth floor-"

"The one Montague disappeared in last year?"

A smile spread on Draco's pale face. "The very same. It's counterpart is at Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley... of course, it's broken, always was, but after last year..."

I was chewing on my lower lip as he talked. Of course, the Vanishing Cabinet would be a perfect way - smooth, safe and inconspicuous - but if it was damaged? I did not have the first idea about how to repair a Vanishing Cabinet and I doubted Draco knew much more about it.

"I figured," he continued, quieter this time. "If I came to you, I was giving myself the best chance."

I snorted. _He was_ , but his best chance was still terribly poor. I might have been talented, I might have been good at what I did, but I was not a miracle worker. I could not repair a Vanishing Cabinet with the flick of my wrist - I doubt you could have done it, either.  
"Better choice than Vince or Greg, at least," I said.

Draco smiled with something like melancholy. "I'll get Borgin to keep his part," he said. "And about the other thing-"

"I'll figure something out," I said and imagined - my stomach turned at the thought - the dead body of our headmaster at my feet.  
Not that I much liked him; but killing him was a different matter than just getting him fired. Of course, we had seen last year that firing Dumbledore seemed close to impossible.

Did you know, back then? What I would be going into my sixth year with? The forced idea that had been implemented into my mind?  
Or was I finally successful in keeping something from you, just for a time, just once?

Either way, Draco's mission or my involvement did not come up during the days leading up to the new school year. Instead, you squeezed in a quick lesson on curses that I promised you I would not need.

The morning of our departure - Mrs Malfoy would pick Theo and me up, presumably with a car that she detested to use because it was so 'Muggle-like' - I knocked at the door to the office, and once more, you did not even look up.

"What?"

"I wanted to say goodbye."

You gave a sharp nod. "Goodbye."

"Is that all?"  
The words escaped me before I could hold them back. I was usually so apt at holding my tongue when it was necessary, but you brought out the worst in me.

You hissed under your breath and turned, with an expression that made me take an instant step backwards. Distantly, I wondered if this would be the one time I would finally feel the brunt of your displeasure. I had avoided it all summer, I had to be due sometime.

"Did you expect tears?" you asked. "Solemn words? _Pathetic girl._ "

The last of your words were hissed again, and they registered a little slower - but they did. I narrowed my eyes at you. Did you truly think that I would not understand Parseltongue, or was this some sort of test?

 _"Don't call me pathetic!"_

Your lips twisted into a smile that might have very well been off satisfaction. " _Or what?"_

I stared at you, dumbstruck for a moment - my mind scrambling, desperately for anything that sounded even remotely threatening - before I decided that I would just pretend you were a normal parent. One, to play into my own fantasies, and second, because I thought it might take you off guard just a little bit.

" _Or I won't come home for Christmas."_

I did not stay to see your reaction.

Mrs Malfoy indeed spent the entire car ride complaining about how terrible she thought riding in a car was. Theo and Draco and evidently zoned out and I humoured her by occasionally saying 'absolutely' or 'yes, absolutely horrific' or 'indeed, I don't know how they take it, either'.  
Truth be told, I liked the Malfoys very much. For whatever reason, they had always been friendly and hospitable to me and when I saw Draco hug his mother goodbye at the platform, my heart clenched. It was evident how much they loved each other. I had to keep them safe, both of them.

"So," Draco said after we had heaved our trunks onto the train. "Prefect meeting?"

"Right," I said, but spotted Blaise in that very moment. I stood on my tiptoes and waved, and he did see me - his eyes met mine for a split second, his eyebrows drew together and he turned as swiftly as he could.

Draco - never one to be considerate - wasted no time commenting. "Trouble in paradise?" he said, chuckling.

"Get stuffed, Draco."

It was not the only unpleasant encounter on that train. (Mind you, some things _had_ been pleasant. Tracey had almost cried with joy when she saw me and Theo had looked oddly proud when he told a pair of seventh-year Slytherins that yes, I had indeed stayed with him that summer.)  
We had passed half our way to the prefect meeting when we ran into Potter and his friends.

"Cassie!"  
Hermione had cried out before she could stop herself, it seemed, and she slapped a hand across her mouth as if that would force it back in. Harry and Ron turned, eyes widening when they spotted me.

During the holidays, I had figured that I would approach this problem one on one. I would explain rationally to Granger - how I could not have refused, how I learnt a lot of useful things from you. It was not necessarily a lie and she would suck that up. With Potter, I had thought to make this more personal: tell him that I had never known my father and could not deprive myself of the chance. Which was also - not untrue. Weasley, I had just figured that I could do without him.

I had not counted on all of them together, which, granted, had been a bit daft, because they always came as a package-deal - either way, my plans flew right out the window.

"Cassie," Hermione repeated. "I'm so relieved-"

"Don't," Potter said and threw out a hand when she approached me. "You know where she spent the summer-"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous!" she snapped back. "We're both prefects, we'll have to be together!"

Weasley, meanwhile, had adopted an expression that looked like he would rather rip my head off than let Granger anywhere near me.  
"Hey, Riddle," he called through the hallway. "Care to show me the Dark Mark?"

Draco froze next to me. While I had been able to evade the marking with a flippant remark - 'I'm not one of your minions, am I?' - he now had to hide his forearms as carefully as he could.

"I don't show my tattoos to strangers," I shot back.

Weasley ushered Hermione forward, into the same direction we had to go. When Draco and I passed Harry, still standing in the doorway of some compartment or other, I said, "Don't worry. I won't kill you." Draco snorted behind me and I added, "Yet."

Potter huffed indignantly, but I ignored it. If they wanted to play at animosity, I could do that. I could have been an invaluable ally, too - but they should have it their way.

The prefect meeting was spent with constant glares from Weasley and Granger constantly elbowing him in the ribs to stop it.  
Marcus Belby from Ravenclaw and Katie Bell from Gryffindor had made Head Boy and Girl. She seemed to be the hard-working while he seemed to enjoying the title a little too much to do proper work. Neither of them deemed it necessary to address the obvious tension in the compartment. Perhaps, of course, they figured it was just the usual rivalry. When had Gryffindors and Slytherins ever gotten along, after all?

Draco and I went our separate ways afterwards. He apparently no interest in doing rounds as we had been told to do - I, on the other hand, was not one to ditch responsibilities.

"Why do you care?" he asked me. "What's it matter?"

"I just do," I told him - and I did care. I wanted to be Head Girl next year, and it would be hard running against Granger, either way.

I found Tracey again on my way and she walked with me until I had finished my duty. There was not much to do; the only disturbance had been Ginny Weasley setting loose a Bat Bogey Hex, but she got promptly found out by a teacher that was curiously on the train.

"Blaise says that's Horace Slughorn," Tracey whispered to me. "His mother's been talking about him... apparently, he's a bit eccentric."

We would find out, though later, just how eccentric Slughorn could be.

Tracey had settled in an empty compartment by herself. Blaise, apparently, had opted to sit with a different group of Slytherins.  
"So he doesn't have to see you," she said.

"Now, this is getting ridiculous," I said. "I leave _just once_ and now he won't talk to me-"

Tracey shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "We were really worried, you know? You left and didn't turn up again and everyone was saying you got kidnapped by You-Know-Who..."

"He's my father," I said as reasonably as I could.

She looked at me doubtfully. The rattling of the train almost swallowed her murmured response. "He's a murderer, though."

My jaws ground together as my stomach twisted. Yes, you were a murderer. Worse than just that - you had murdered, tortured, you had been the worst thing that ever happened to Wizarding Britain. People would not even speak your name.  
I knew it, but I did not want to hear it.

"Excuse me?" I scoffed. "Whose father _isn't_ a murderer in this House?"

Tracey's eyebrows drew together. "Mine," she said. "My father isn't a murderer - my dad's just an everyday Muggle going about his everyday life."

I winced. With almost everyone being a pureblood, it was easy to forget that Tracey was one of the few Slytherins with a Muggle heritage - much like me, ironically.  
How had you even done it, back in the day? When all you could say for yourself that you had grown up in a Muggle orphanage - with everyone so intent on being a pureblood? How in Merlin's name had you drawn people on your side? It baffles me to this day. You must have been so charming.

Tracey, meanwhile, was still looking at me doubtfully. "You're not going around killing Muggles, are you?" she asked.

"Of course not," I said and hoped that I would never have to prove myself a liar.

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	13. Blood Ties

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* * *

 **Blood Ties**

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The new school year came with yet another surprise: Snape had finally achieved what he had always longed for and became Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. As often as he had been hanging around Nott's place, I thought it a right wonder that I had not yet heard of it.  
Either way, it was because of this that Professor Slughorn had returned from retirement and became the new Potions teacher.

Tracey had almost fallen from her seat at the announcement - she had dropped Potions, mostly because she was not up to Snape's standard. She had taken Defence, though, and her chances; no one knew what to expect in that subject, so she might as well have excelled under a well-meaning teacher.

No such luck. "I'm never gonna get rid of him," she said.

To me, it did not matter. I had dropped Astronomy, Herbology and Care for Magical Creatures - Potions and Defence would always be on my timetable.

Professor Slughorn was both fat and bold, and obviously not aging very well - he did, however, appear to be more than content to be back at Hogwarts.  
How could he not? If you asked me, I would prefer being at Hogwarts to anywhere else in the world. Would you not?

I left the first years to the prefects from the year below me - Astoria Greengrass beamed with joy when I told her I trusted her with this - and instead made my way down to the dungeons with Tracey, in peace.  
Peace, as always, only lasted so long. We had just reached the staircase descending into the dungeons when I spotted Blaise again. This time, he did not turn away, but the shot me a glare that I would not have survived if looks could kill.

I squared my shoulders and Tracey sighed heavily next to me. "You guys should talk."

"Oh," I said. "We will."

She nodded to me and sent Blaise a small smile before she hurried after our classmates. Students were still passing by us, but among their chatter and tired yawns, they probably would not notice a word we said.

"Did you injure your hand?" I asked. "I didn't get an answer to my letters."

Blaise's dark eyes narrowed at me. "You know damn well why I didn't answer you."

I huffed at that. "Do I? Because it seems to me that you're throwing a fit over something inconsequential-"

"Inconsequential? _Inconsequential_?"  
He looked at me as if I had gone mad. Shaking his head, he took a step backwards and ran a hand across his face.  
"You got taken! You might as well have been dead and then, after weeks, I just get some bullshit letter saying you're staying with your _father_ -"

"Well, he is, isn't he?"

"It's Voldemort!"

I flinched, both at the cutting sound of his voice and the startling mention of your name - no one spoke your name. Blaise had never used the name before and I, of course, had not either.

Blaise was bristling. "Do you realize who he is? What he did? What he will do? Do you realize what you're doing to Tracey?"

"Tracey is fine and she'll always be-"

"And her family? Muggles and blood-traitors, that's what _your father_ sees them as, as no better than the mud under his feet." Blaise's voice was suddenly so very calm. His eyes were boring into mine, so intent and my head was spinning with his words. "I thought you... I thought _we_ both knew that this elitist crap is nonsense."

By now, I was shaking.  
On the one hand, he was right - we had always agreed on that. We had both chosen Tracey, specifically because no one else wanted to care about her and had found a fantastic friend. We both giggled every time people like Draco talked about 'a respectable pureblood marriage' or things that 'every respectable wizard did'. We had both always said that respectability had nothing to do with blood - and yet.  
I had spent the summer with you, had tasted a bit of power and the reverence with which you were treated. I had gotten a hint of what a family might be like. I owed you at least my loyalty.

"What are you saying?" I asked coldly. "Do you want to stand against the Dark Lord?"

"Well, I sure don't want to stand with him!" he shot back.

By now, most of the students had found their way out of the Entrance Hall and it gave every word the chance to echo from those high ceilings and far walls.  
"I would reconsider, if I were you," I said. "He isn't merciful to those who don't obey him."

Blaise let out a hollow laugh that made my skin crawl. What had I done? "Quite a leader you are." My eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head again. "You always wanted to be the leader - shouldn't someone like that have some moral integrity?"

He did not give me a chance to answer. He raked a hand through his hair, eyed me from head to toe and then turned on his heel, fast and determined steps carrying him down to the dungeons.

I took a few moments before I followed, hoping to steady my breathing and to reign in the furious blush on my face.

It was only later, when I laid in bed and stared at the green hangings that I began to consider his words more carefully. Of course I knew that you were not a good person. Of course I knew that you put people I cared about in danger. If you were anyone else - anyone, but not my father - I would never have taken your course.  
I could not very well tell Blaise that, could I? Who knew when the tables would turn and I would have to convince people of my allegiance? He could be telling anyone; and I could not let word of my doubts get out. I had to appear strong and unfazed. Who would follow me if I were anything else?

The first of Snape's Defence lessons passed without much out of the ordinary. He wanted to teach us non-verbal spells, which was something I had been practicing by myself for years - and he gave Potter his first detention, which, if I judged the expression on his face correctly, Harry thought to be totally worth it. He had never known when to shut up.  
('There's no need to call me 'sir', Professor' - the cheek! I had never seen anyone throw such shade at a teacher.)

Slughorn's class was quite a different matter. While we were used to constant change at the post of Defence teacher, we had only ever had Snape in Potions. It seemed, in turn, as if Slughorn had occupied a room that clearly did not belong to him. Any moment, I expected Snape to barge in and kick him out.  
Which would have been difficult - up close, Slughorn seemed even more enormous than he had appeared to be across the Great Hall.

"Now then," he said when everyone had settled. Aside from me, only Draco, Theo and Blaise had made it through the O.W.L.s with sufficient grades; the situation at our table was appropriately tense. "I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at... You ought to have heard of 'em, even if you haven't made 'em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?"

Hermione's hand had shot into the air as it usually did and with every answer she gave, Slughorn became steadily more impressed. Veritaserum - Polyjuice Potion - Amortentia. I was brimming with the prospect of being able to make them by the end of the year.

"Sir," Ernie Macmillan from Hufflepuff said when Slughorn finally wanted to get to work. "You haven't told us what's in this one."

Indeed, a small black cauldron stood on Slughorn's desk at the front of the classroom, large drops leaping back and forth above it.

"Oh," said Slughorn. "Yes - that, well, that one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most curious little potion called Felix Felicis."

Granger drew in an audible breath across the room, but Draco, too, was suddenly leaning forward to get a better look.  
"Liquid luck," he whispered to me. "Can you imagine-?"

Yes, I could imagine. In my mind, the Vanishing Cabinet was already repaired, Dumbledore was dead and you never found out about my involvement - all it took was a little luck, after all.

"Desperately tricky to make," Slughorn continued and my hope for it dissipated slightly. "If taken in excess, it causes recklessness and dangerous overconfidence... Too much of a good thing, you know? Highly toxic in large quantities."  
He smiled, as if lost in some old, joyous memory. "And that," he said when he caught himself. "Is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson."

My eyes swept around the room - to the Ravenclaws, who were already smiling smugly and to Hermione, who could barely keep sitting with excitement. It was not that I was bad at Potions, far from it - but this was no safe win.

"What if we'd rather have one of the others?" I said. My eyes had landed on the Polyjuice Potion again and I wondered if such would not be much more useful.

Slughorn chortled. "And why would you rather have those?"

Draco, next to me, looked as if he was thinking the exact same thing. I shrugged, hoping to seem unconcerned. "Maybe I'd prefer to make my own luck."

"Ha! A nice idea," Slughorn said. "And you would be?"

I remembered the year before, when Professor Umbridge had asked me my name as well. It was always a bit of gamble - had they heard of your true name before or not? Had they heard the rumours; did they read the Prophet?  
I decided that a bold approach would be best and looked him dead in the eye as I said, "Cassandra Riddle, Sir."

He knew, of course. You would have known that, given everything, but I saw recognition strike he moment I said 'Riddle'. His eyes widened, and if I was not mistaken, he started sweating nervously. It might have been a trick of the eye, though.

Slughorn did not say anything. He merely nodded jerkily and continued on with the lesson.

The Draught of Living Death - as I am sure you know, a difficult potion to brew and absolutely dangerous when done wrong. The class was working in unknown concentration; the offer of a bit of liquid luck seemed to have everyone striving for the best.  
Mine did not look necessarily wrong, but it did not look exactly right either when Slughorn called for us to stop. I figured I would have needed more time, or maybe I just needed more practice.

Either way, he swiped past my cauldron without much of a glance and instead came to a stop right in front of Potter. Harry looked about as dumbstruck as everyone else when he was announced the winner.  
Draco hissed under his breath and I shook my head as Potter got handed the vial of Felix Felicis - since when, in Merlin's name, was Potter a talented potioneer?

"He's cheating," Draco whispered, but I did not believe that. If Potter knew how to cheat in Potions, he would have done so years ago. Besides, he and his friends were such goody-two-shoes. Granger certainly would not have allowed it.

My housemates were grumbling as they packed up and I watched silently as Potter cheerfully burrowed both his price and his rusty Potions book in his bag.

"Miss Riddle?" Startled, I looked up to find Slughorn watching me closely. "May I have a word?"

I nodded and motioned for the others to go ahead without me, but my stomach fluttering uncomfortably. Teachers usually did not want to have words with me.

Slughorn waited for the class to clear out and then waved for me to follow. He lead me into his office, right off the classroom. He had not been here for more than two days, but the room seemed already stuffed.  
Pictures had been spread everywhere, showing groups of people on each one - most of them students, as far as I could tell. In all of them, Slughorn stood right in the middle, obviously content with himself.

"I apologize if I was a bit startled," Slughorn began while I was still looking around. He had walked over to his desk and was fiddling with a glass box. "Crystallized pineapple - have one, it's a favourite of mine..."

"No, thank you," I said. "I don't want to impose."

He looked a bit taken aback, but nodded as if I had just said the most logical thing. "Your father," he said. "Gifted me some of them once... he must have saved quite a bit for it."

This time, it was me that was caught by surprise. My eyebrows rose and I tried to do the math in my head - could Slughorn really have been a teacher in your time?  
Said teacher was still watching me closely, likely gauging my reaction. Truth be told, I simply was not prepared. Aside from Dumbledore, I had never met a person that had known you in your younger years - and I could not have very well asked Dumbledore about you, could I?

"That doesn't sound like him at all," I offered, when Slughorn seemed to be getting impatient.

To my surprise, he laughed. A nervous, strained laugh, but laughter nonetheless. "It was _very_ like him. He could be so very charming, Tom..."  
He turned to one of the shelves filled with pictures and grabbed one from the very back. I stepped closer, curious to see what it showed.

Believe it or not, I knew you at once. Not that you were _recognizable_ \- but I knew. Perhaps by the haughty expression, perhaps because you once had had my nose, perhaps because the people around you kept a respectful distance.  
I had never known you once were handsome. I can only imagine why you would rather look like an oversized reptile.

"One of my students, so very long ago," Slughorn said. "He was always quite something." His eyes, which had drifted dreamily once more, returned to me with startling precision. "I had heard the rumours, but I didn't think them true. For you to turn up in my class - forgive me, Miss Riddle, I must have been quite rude-"

"It's fine," I said, my eyes still fixed on your face staring up at me from the ancient photograph.

"Do you write home often?"

I blinked, trying to focus on his words rather than the picture. "Uh - I'm not sure if I'll write at all," I said and glanced up at him.  
It was not hard to gather what he wanted. I did not have to apply the slightest bit of legilimency to know that he was scared out of his wits - scared of you, no doubt. He did not want me to mention him, did not want you to know where he was - or if you did, because Hogwarts teaching positions were rarely kept secret, he did not want you to know that I had any sort of connection to him.

"Surely I will only mention crucial things," I said. "I'm afraid there'll hardly be a place to mention my Potions class..."

He looked as relieved as if I had rescued him from the executioner's block. "Right," he said brightly. "Of course not." He pressed the picture even more closely into my hands. "Keep it if you want," he said. "I am sure you have more use for it than I do."

I did keep it. It is the only picture of you I have.

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	14. Higher Ground

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* * *

 **H** **igher Ground**

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You were strutting about that photograph. Everyone else in it had left, as pictures did occasionally, but you never did - perhaps you did not have another photograph to go to. Even fuming as you were, the motions were flawless, every step as elegant as that of a cat.

I kept the photograph around me wherever I went and I would pull it out of my bag every now and then - when I was early for class yet again, for example - just to steal a quick glance.  
Even now, while the common room was buzzing for the approaching weekend - Pansy and Daphne had snuck into the kitchens and organised some Butterbeer - I had the picture on my lap, trying to reconcile the you I knew with the you I saw on it.

It was almost impossible. Do other people have the same trouble when they see old pictures of their parents, or is it just me? Or, rather, is it just you that changed so much that you became nearly unrecognizable?

"What have you got there?"

It was Tracey. So far, I had successfully kept the picture from her. No matter how much it angered me, Blaise's words still echoed inside me. Tracey _did_ have to fear for her family and it was not exactly nice to carry a picture of her tormentor.  
Besides, it was _special_ and I did not want her to see.

Now, it was too late. She had plopped onto the couch right next to me and plucked the photograph from my hands. As she did so, the picture-you turned to look at her and made a very rude gesture indeed. Her eyebrows drew tightly together at the sight.

"What in Merlin's name-?"

"It's just some old thing Slughorn gave me," I said swiftly and reached to take it back from her.

She quickly moved it out of my reach, still looking at it intently. You were stomping around now more than you walked. "Wait," she said. "Is that...?"

"Is that what?" I shot back.

"Your dad?"

I froze for a second. No one had ever referred to you as my _dad_ , I certainly would never refer to you as _Dad_ and the mere idea was so absurd, that I blinked at Tracey stupidly for a bit until she waved the photograph in my face.

"What?" I asked.

"Is that your father?" she repeated, a bit slower and more pronounced. "On the picture?"

"I - yes," I said finally, though it did not suit me at all. "Slughorn used to teach him and he thought, since I don't really have any pictures-"

"You carry around a picture of the Dark Lord?"

Tracey and I both flinched at the sudden loud noise. It was Blaise.  
Blaise, of course, who looked absolutely livid - but only if you knew him well. Like many Slytherins, restraint was one of his main virtues. His anger was no more than a twinkle in his eyes, and a tightly clenched fist half-hidden in his robes.

His words had not only alerted us, but half the common room. Everyone who was close enough turned to look at us with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance at being disturbed. Across the room, Draco had straightened in his seat.

"So?" I said.

"The picture of a _murderer_ ," Blaise said. "Half this house's parents are in Azkaban because of him-"

"Because of Potter," Draco called. Some people nodded, but as the common room fell ever more silent around us, I saw some of my housemates looking decidedly uncomfortable.

"What about Tracey?" Blaise said. "What about Milicent's aunt - she's married a Muggleborn, right? What about those who don't want a skull tattooed on their arm forever?"

"Blaise," Tracey whispered. "It's her father-"

I rose from my seat. Blaise was glaring at me while the rest of the room watched me with in avid silence. I had half a mind to hex him; not only for the way he talked about you, and me, but also for the stupidity of doing it this publicly.

"Anyone else want to speak about the Dark Lord?" I asked. No one spoke. No one even twitched. "Good. Because there'll be none of it anymore in this House."  
My eyes focused on Blaise, who scoffed at my words. I longed to just make him see, I longed for him to understand - I did not enjoy standing against him like this.  
"I'm not telling you to run along and get Dark Marks right now. In fact, I believe staying out of conflicts is a healthy choice," I announced. A few, especially younger students, seemed remarkably relieved. "But I would advise you not to stand against the Dark Lord. I can't protect you if you do - I won't even try. So choose your side carefully."

Blaise was shaking his head at me and when I finished, he took two steps backwards - then he turned and pushed through the crowd that reluctantly parted for him. His heavy steps up the staircase to his dorm rang loudly in my ears.

Meanwhile, the silence in the common room was still stifling. I could feel all their eyes on me and grimaced. Tracey had turned awfully pale.

"Well," I asked loudly. "What are you staring at?"

It stared with a bit of murmuring and a few people shuffling about, and within a minute, the common room had returned to its usual obnoxious level of noise.

I put the photograph at the very bottom of my trunk that night.

Not that I would have had a lot of time to mull over it after that day.  
The course load did not let up - the teachers seemed to agree that we had to work as hard as we could to achieve our N.E.W.T.s and to that end, they buried us in homework.  
So much homework, in fact, that I completely forgot our mission until Draco reminded me in early October.

"I just don't know _where_ ," he told me. "We're never quite safe from being discovered. I'd hate for Potter to barge in, you know the way he does it-"

"Yes," I said. "But I still know just the place to do it."

The most taxing thing was moving the Vanishing Cabinet. It had been discarded, locked away in a broom cupboard close to Filch's office and so we had to move he thing seven staircases up from the ground floor to reach the Room of Requirement.  
It was close to impossible, even when we both had Prefect duty and were basically alone, so we did it in stages, moving it a floor every three days or so and locking it in abandoned classrooms.

Breathing heavily, we finally had plopped down in front of it between abandoned chairs and cauldrons on the fifteenth day. I had wished for a room in which we could hide something and had come out in what looked to be the home of a compulsive hoarder. Clearly, we were not the first ones to store away something in this room.

"I can't believe I didn't think of this," Draco said, gesturing around. "It's the perfect place."

"Well, I aim for the best," I said.

No light-hearted words could erase my feeling of dread, though. Once again, I feared you had set an impossible task - it had been easy enough to forget while we were preoccupied with getting it up here, but neither of us had any idea how to repair a Vanishing Cabinet.

"Maybe we just go with _Reparo_ ," Draco suggested, though in a tone of defeat.

"If it was that easy, this wouldn't be a task," I said.

"Right," he said. "Never forget that I'm supposed to fail."

I glanced over at him. He looked - well, frankly, he looked doomed. He knew you wanted him to fail and he did not see a way to prevent it, I could see the despair and the resignation in his face. We had not even started.

"He's going to murder my - my mum, you know?" Draco said, his eyes firmly fixed on the offending cabinet. "If I don't make it..."

My stomach twisted. I had never even thought about that - had not even considered that you would threaten his mother. Perhaps I had not known you for long enough, or perhaps I did not even want to know, but I had not thought you would stoop that low.  
Draco looked so lost already - and Merlin, I did not want Mrs Malfoy to be murdered.

"Don't be such a downer," I said firmly and saw Draco's head rise. "We haven't even started. Of course we are going to make it."

We tried Reparo then, just because we did not know anything better. Here is a surprise for you: it did not work. The apple we used to test came back out crumbled and shrunken and not at all as red and edible as we had put it in.

"It's no use," I concluded finally. "We have to go to the library and see if we find anything."

"Anything like what?" Draco asked. "Repairing Vanishing Cabinets for Dummies?"

"Maybe there's an instruction on how to build one. We could just break it down and build it up from scratch."

He looked at me doubtfully. "We're never going to get that right."

I huffed. "You underestimate me."

Though he most certainly did, Draco was right. Vanishing Cabinets are tricky things and take expertise to build - if we broke this one down, we would never get it running again. The only way was to find the error and fix it, but as off know, I had no idea where to start. An instruction manual did not seem like the worst idea to me.

We returned after midnight, sneaking through the corridors because even Prefects were not supposed to be out that late. The common room was almost deserted, only some seventh years left that did not pay us any attention.  
As we passed the notice board, my eyes flickered over the Hogsmeade announcement - as always, Halloween would be the first visit of the year.

"Maybe there's a craftsman in town," I said thoughtfully. "Can't hurt to ask someone with expertise."

"Right," Draco said, eyes suddenly shimmering with determination. "This visit's right on time."

Only Draco had a very different idea of what kind of useful this trip would be. When he refused to come - "I have better things to do than strolling through town" as if I was doing this for my own pleasure - I had taken Tracey to the manufacturer instead.  
Unfortunately, he had been rather suspicious that a student wanted to repair a Vanishing Cabinet - _for yourself? Do the teachers make you do that? Maybe I'll talk to Dumbledore..._

Tracey had quickly told him that it was an old family piece but that her father did not like workers in the house. He did not seem entirely convinced, but at least it seemed he would not report us at school.  
Disappointed, Tracey and I set back off through the village.

"Why are you building a Vanishing Cabinet, anyway?" Tracey asked.

"I need it," I said.

"Yes," she said. "But what for?"

I threw her a sideways glance and considered telling her the truth - but it was not only my life on the line (I like to think that I was relatively safe), it was Draco's life and his parents' lives and I could not bring myself to hand that kind of information to anyone, not even my best friend.

"Just trust me," I said.

"How can I?" she said. "If you don't trust me in turn."

There was no proper answer, not if I did not want to explain everything I had just resolved not to tell her.

I was, more or less fortunately, saved from answering. We had reached the street leading up towards the castle. A few Gryffindors were already making their way up ahead, stomping more than walking through the snow. I could make out Hermione Granger's unruly hair and the bright read of Weasley's head, but for once, Potter and his friends were not the main attraction.

There were two girls ahead, arguing in shrill voices, both with bright red Gryffindor scarves shining through the snow. As we watched, one of them let something drop; and in the next moment, she had become as stiff as a board. She suddenly rose into the air, her arms outstretched - her hair was floating in the harsh wind.

Next to me, Tracey sucked in a harsh breath. The girl rose higher and higher until she came to a halt, six feet above the ground - and let out a terrifying, bloodcurling scream.  
Her friend grabbed her by the leg as Harry and his friends set off at a run to help.

I know you probably think that I should've done the Voldemort's-daughter-like thing and just watched as one after the other fell victim to whatever kind of dark magic had possessed the girl - especially Potter. I know, all right? I must be a lousy daughter in your eyes.

I also did not think about you at all in that moment. Instead, I started running just as the three Gryffindors had. The girl was still screaming, even as they pulled her back to the ground.  
As we approached, I finally recognized her: It was Katie Bell, our Head Girl. She was writhing and screaming and I wondered if she had some kind of seizure.

"Careful!" I cried, though it was probably hard to hear given the wind. "Don't touch her skin-"

"Are you crazy?" Weasley called back, holding on to Katie's arm as she trashed. "She's going to hurt herself."

"This looks like Dark Magic!" I shouted. "She might be dangerous!"

Potter set off to get help as Tracey pulled on my sleeve. "Look," she said and pointed to the package the girl had been holding. It lay abandoned in the snow, already hidden beneath a layer of white.  
I wiped it away with a flick of my wand and bent down to inspect it. It was a necklace. Decorated with opals, it looked like one of those things that were passed down in families for generations.

"I've seen that before!"  
Potter had returned and was now looking at the necklace over my shoulder. I turned slightly to see that his help had been Hagrid, who had already picked Bell up and was setting off for the school in a run.

"It was on display in Borgin & Burke's ages ago... The label said it was cursed."

"No surprise there," I said.

He looked at me as if this was the first time he noticed my presence. I rolled my eyes at the obvious dislike in his expression - not like I was trying to help or anything.  
I held up my hand in surrender and rejoined Tracey who was standing a few feet away, still watching the scene with wide eyes.

"Is it really cursed?" she asked me in a whisper.

"Must be," I said. "It reeks of Dark Magic all right."

Potter was wrapping the offending thing in his scarf as they attempted to soothe Katie Bell's friend, who was a right mess.  
The Gryffindors set off towards the grounds and we followed, careful not to get in their way again. They had been unwelcoming enough as it was.

Still, we were close enough to hear Potter speak next. "Malfoy knows about this necklace," he said. "I saw him having a good look at it..."

Tracey huffed indignantly - because in her mind, Draco would never do such a thing - but my stomach dropped as if from the Astronomy Tower. Because in _my_ mind, that was exactly the kind of thing Draco would do.

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	15. Holy Night

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* * *

 **Holy Night**

* * *

"You've gone mad, haven't you?"

Draco did not even have the decency to look sheepish. The Room of Requirement was still as dusty and crowded as it had ever been and the Vanishing Cabinet was still just as broken. Instead of doing anything about it, Draco had attacked a fellow student - a Gryffindor, granted, but that did not make it any better.

"They're going to be investigating," I told him. "You know that, right? If they link this back to you-"

"How would they?" he said lazily. "I wasn't even in Hogsmeade."

Do you want to know how he did it? Because, despite all your complaining about how inept the Malfoys supposedly were, this had been quite thrifty.  
He had _imperius'd_ the Three Broomsticks' landlady and was communicating with her through the same coins that Dumbledore's Army had used the year before to give instructions as needed.

It actually was very smart, or so I personally thought, but at that moment, I was far too angry to acknowledge this. The whole school was in an uproar because of what happened to Katie Bell and at least a few - I had heard Potter after all - suspected that Draco had something to do with it. It was only a matter of time until a teacher would get suspicious, too.

"Listen to me," I said. "And listen well, I don't want this happening again-"

"We're supposed to kill Dumbledore, aren't we?" he said defiantly.

"Dumbledore, yes," I said bitingly. "Not innocent students."

To be honest, what happened to Katie had been terrifying. I knew about Dark Arts, had used them myself, had fired curses and read more than I probably should - but it was quite different seeing a Dark Object in action, seeing it very nearly rob a girl of her life.  
It was even more terrifying seeing Draco be so nonchalant about it.

"Will you give it a rest?" Draco asked, and wiped a bit of blonde hair from his face. "There are more pressing matters."

There were.  
We found an instruction manual in the library the week after the attack, but it was severely outdated; it seemed that people 150 years ago were already building Vanishing Cabinets. Madam Pince looked at me very strangely indeed when I asked for a more recent version.

I figured we might find one if we searched Flourish&Blotts - or something like it; sometimes, the bookshops in Knockturn Alley have a better turnout - but time was running through our hands like sand.

"I'll ask Borgin again," Draco said. "Perhaps he just pretends to not know a thing, we'll see how persuasive I can be..."

I had the fleeting thought of asking you, but dismissed it at once - who knew how you would react to me helping Draco? (Mind you, I actually know, and it was not pleasant). At the very least, the death of Mrs Malfoy should not be my fault.

"Are you going to Slughorn's party?" Draco asked suddenly.

I started, taken off-guard by the abrupt change of subject. Slughorn, as he surely already did in your days, was throwing a Christmas party for his favoured students and alumni. In a stunning turn of events, I had been invited, but Draco had not - apparently having a proven Death Eater for a father was worse than it being the Dark Lord himself.

"I suppose I am," I said.

"Will you take me?"

I scoffed at that. The invitation had said that we were supposed to bring guests, but I had planned on very firmly ignoring this suggestion.  
"That's not how this works," I said. "And I'm not going on a date with you."

"That - no, that - I wasn't-"

I had the distinct pleasure of seeing Draco Malfoy turn bright red at my suggestion. Of course I knew that he had not meant it like that; if anything, our collaboration would have squashed any of his desire he might have once had to marry the Dark Lord's daughter.  
I still enjoyed seeing him squirm.

"I'm going alone," I said. "And it's going to be super boring, you won't miss anything."

Slughorn had gone out of his way to invoke a sense of importance about this party. His large office was covered in coloured drapes and Sweet Merlin, it was crowded - it seemed he had invited everyone he knew, or at least cared to know.  
Did he do this while you were at school? I was surprised so many people even followed an invitation by an old teacher. Then again, who would miss a chance to see Hogwarts again?

"Cassandra!" Slughorn boomed. "A pleasure to see you -" And he introduced me to a man who I suspected to be a vampire. (First werewolves, now vampires, this school was going to the dogs.)

I excused myself hurriedly and dodged Hermione Granger, who was apparently escaping her date, a bulky Gryffindor with the stupefied look of a mountain troll.

"I didn't know you'd be here." Blaise had appeared, seemingly out of thin air. He was holding a cup that smelled suspiciously like firewhiskey and barely looked at me as he spoke. "I thought Slughorn didn't invite Death Eaters..."

"I'm not a Death Eater," I said. Though I had been surprised by the invitation as well. He had not invited anyone who had Death Eater-links; not Draco, not Theo, not anyone whose parents had been in the Department of Mysteries.  
It seemed ridiculous that he would invite me, then - I figured he was scared I would write about him to you after all. As if I would have complained about being excluded. I was already wishing I was not here.

"Who'd you bring?" Blaise continued. "Let me guess - Draco's just getting you drinks?"

"I brought myself," I told him. My eyebrows drew together. "Why would I bring Draco?"

Blaise gave an exasperated sigh, took another sip from the whiskey and finally shook his head at me, as if he could not quite believe the conversation we had.  
"I need to get back to my date," he said.

My stomach churned at the thought. Blaise raised an eyebrow at me and then stalked away without a goodbye. I pressed my lips tightly together to keep from screaming in annoyance. What was he playing at?  
I rose to my tiptoes, hoping to see who exactly his date was - I felt like I might possibly murder whoever it was - but in the stuffy crowd, it was impossible to find Blaise again.

I had a very clear view of the door, though.  
Honestly, you would have probably tortured him for pulling a stunt like this, and I felt about ready to do so myself - though I never laid a hand on any of my people if it was not an emergency, mind you. Sometimes, I look at myself and find that I am not like you.  
As I watched, Filch appeared in the doorway and pulled Draco in after him, dragging him by the ear. The crowd around them fell silent and the silence spread from there through the room.

"Professor Slughorn," Filch called and the crowd parted to let Slughorn through. "I discovered this boy upstairs - claims to ave been invited to your party. Did you issue him with an invitation?"

Slughorn opened his mouth, Snape was sweeping forward through the crowd and in the split-second I had to decide, I knew there was no other option.  
"Actually," I called. "He's here with me."

Filch and the teachers turned to me, only Slughorn seemingly believing my lie. Snape looked as if I had mispronounced his favourite potion.

"I almost thought you'd stood me up," I said, venturing forward to reach Draco.

"No," Draco said. Closer up, he looked a bit ill - he had dark rings under his eyes and his skin had an unhealthy colour. "I just - I got held up."

Slughorn chortled at that. "Nerves!" he exclaimed. "Dear girl, you must forgive him!" He clapped Draco on the back and smiled brightly at me.

Draco pulled himself away from Filch while I assured Slughorn, that yes, I would indeed give him another chance (that man is so oblivious, one could fool him into anything - but, of course, you know this by your own experience).

The party picked up again. The music was turned to a higher volume, but still could not be heard over the chatter of the crowd. Draco finally got to my side, but looked so tired as if he might drop any second.

"Thanks," he whispered to me. "Filch already threatened to hang me by my ankles..."

"What _were_ you doing out?" I asked quietly. "You look like hell."

Draco pulled a face. "It's the cabinet," he said. "But I can't tell you here."

His fingers wrapped carefully around my upper arm, while I kept my eyes on Slughorn - I really did not want him to see us running for it, least of all together.  
We had almost made it when someone else stepped into my line of sight. Blaise looked... well, he frankly looked disappointed. His eyebrows had knotted together and his dark eyes were sparkling with fury. Our gaze met and he shook his head. It was a gesture of finality if I had ever seen one; my stomach dropped as if from the Astronomy Tower.

Then we were out.  
The dungeon's hallways were lit more brightly than usual, but they were much colder than Slughorn's office had been. I drew in a deep breath, trying to shake the image of Blaise from my mind.

(Sometimes, when I am very lonely, I imagine that you felt that way about my mother, whoever she was - that sometimes, you see her face when you close your eyes and I imagine you hurt. Because she is not there. Because you probably killed her.)

"The Cabinet," I prompted to distract myself. "What've you got?"

"Nothing," Draco said darkly. "I thought I maybe... but I climbed in and got stuck."

I stopped dead at his words. "You didn't," I said. "Have you forgotten Montague, what if you had got hurt?"

"My thoughts exactly."

We both whirled at Snape's silky voice. Like some sort of bat emerging from a hidden cave come nightfall, he stepped out of the shadows and was suddenly right next to us. How he had escaped Slughorn, I would never know.  
His dark eyes were moving between us and Draco started shifting nervously.

Now, I was not entirely sure how you would feel about me helping Draco, but I was absolutely sure what you would think about us blabbing to Snape. You trusted him, of course - a mistake, was it not? - but if you had wanted him to do it, you would have made it so.

"How far are you with the Cabinet?"

Draco's eyes narrowed and I hissed slightly. So he already knew. "Mind your own business," I said.

"Listen," Snape said as he glanced around the empty corridor. "I am trying to help. Draco, I swore to your mother, I would protect you, I made the Unbreakable Vow-"

I could not help the choking sound escaping my throat. An Unbreakable Vow - can you imagine? What an utterly stupid thing to do.

"Looks like you'll have to break it," Draco shot back. "It's my job, he gave it to me and I'm doing it."

"And Miss Riddle, here?" Snape asked, sparkling eyes turning back here. "If only you told me what you are trying to do, I can assist you-"

Draco looked as if he might lose it any second. His hands had clenched into tight fists and his eyes were already bulging - incautious as he had been today, I almost expected him to scream and attract attention.  
I reached out, laid a hand on his arm and watched him deflate slightly. Snape was regarding the entire exchange with obvious attention.

"We're doing fine," I said pointedly. "Your involvement shall not be necessary."

"Why not confide in me, and I can-"

"Draco, we're leaving," I announced.

Snape was obviously displeased, but he did not stop us. Much like Draco had before, I now pulled him along by his arm, him all the while muttering about how Snape was trying to steal his glory. Which was obviously nonsense - I was sure Snape did not feel it necessary to steal or even gain glory.

The holidays were spent back at Nott's place. Theo did not say anything to me, but he did not seem entirely pleased. He smiled and ordered the House Elves about to hang Christmas decorations, but it was more going through the motions than anything else. My heart clenched every time I saw him stare at the door to his father's old office - the room you now occupied while Mr Nott sat in Azkaban for you.

I also found that the Notts had an extensive library, one that was far more suited to my needs than the one at Hogwarts. Indeed, it seemed that someone around here had once had a problem with a Vanishing Cabinet - or, rather, someone had wanted to create a problem.  
It seemed there was a way to misdirect the cabinet's connection; and I figured if it was possible to divert it, it would be possible to push it back in the right direction.

"You spend a lot of time reading."

I will never know if _you_ noticed, or if Barmy Bella did for you, but whatever it was, my first reaction was to create as strong a wall around my mind as I could when you asked.  
"I have schoolwork."

"Truly?" You were watching me intently, but you were not prodding into my mind - I took it as a sign that you were inclined to believe me.

We were having dinner, just the two of us, because everyone else had excused themselves with more or less believable pretexts. Up until now - we had already reached pudding - it had been a silent affair and while I had thought it sad before, I now wished that it had remained that way.

"Truly," I said. "We're already preparing for the N.E.W.T.s, after all."

You shot me quizzical look. "And you couldn't make an exception for Christmas?"

"Don't tell me you've suddenly found Jesus."

That was a mistake. I knew it when you, very slowly and carefully, set down your spoon. Your magic was teasing the edges of my mental defense.

"You are out of line," you announced.

My tongue darted out briefly to wet my lips. "I apologize, milord."

It was too late. Pain shot through me like hot, blazing fire, enlightened every nerve-ending, twisting it in agony. I probably screamed, but did not hear it, for the pain was also ringing in my ears - it clouded my vision and made every muscle seize up. It seemed to go on for hours and yet not a second seemed to pass.

When it stopped, I was on the floor. I had obviously hit my head, for I felt slightly dizzy, and I had bit on my tongue - the salty, bitter taste of blood filled my mouth.  
It was hard to catch my breath and my heart was pounding, so I decided to just lie there and stare up at the ceiling for as long as you would let me.

Your own daughter - were you proud of yourself? In that moment, as I laid on Nott's cold stone floor, I felt like I had reached the end. All those years, longing to meet you... had it been for this?

Your white hand appeared in my line of vision, long fingers stretched out in an offer to help me up. They were as cold to the touch as they looked. My head spun as you pulled me up, but your smile quickly came back into focus.

"You are forgiven."

* * *

 **I'm scheduled to update next week on Christmas Eve, which I won't do for obvious reasons - I'll probably only update the week after.  
So, at this point: Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates, enjoy the holidays and I'll see (read?) you soon after!**


	16. Poison

**Thanks to everyone who read, fav'd, alerted and most of all to leeshuwen for reviewing!**

* * *

 **Poison**

* * *

Despite your scrutiny, I managed to secretly take the book about Vanishing Cabinets along. This time, I did not go to say goodbye to you and you did not make any effort, either. Personally, I wanted space between us more than anything. You perhaps did not care or you carried grudges longer than you let on. I did not bother to find out.  
All I knew was that I left the house with a stinging sensation in my stomach that might have been fear or guilt, or both.

Either way, by the second evening back, Draco and I were in the Room of Requirement, pouring over the thick tome I had stolen.

"This is brilliant," Draco said, grey eyes shining with hope for the first time in months. "Who knew it'd be right under our noses?"

For a split second, I was back on the floor, my skin still burning from the pain you had inflected on me - my heart was pounding again, my breath short - and then he cleared his throat and broke me out of it.

"Well," I said, shaking my head slightly. "It's about time. Did you speak to Borgin about it?"

"Yeah," Draco said, but his eyebrows pulled together. "I figure he doesn't really know anything, he's just too scared to admit."

I sighed. Honestly, I had almost expected it, but it was still a disappointment. I would have liked someone knowledgeable to confirm my plan of action.  
Instead, I leaved through the book again. It would be a complicated procedure - we would have to break the thing down, enchant the relevant parts anew and put it back together, all the while not destroying its general magical set up. We had finally found the way, but that did not mean that we could actually do it.

"Did you talk to Blaise?"

I raised an eyebrow at that - since when did we spend our valuable time, time that was running short, frankly, with meaningless banter? Draco rolled his eyes in response to my incredulous look.

"See, this has been going on for too long," Draco said. "He's miserable and moody, and it's getting on my nerves-"

"There's nothing I can do," I said. "He won't talk to me unless I take a stance that I can't take. That none of us can take, you know that as well as I do."

Draco pulled a face. "He says he worries about Tracey."

I worried about Tracey, too. After what happened during the holidays, I worried even more. If you did not even spare me, then there was no hope for Tracey, or her Muggle family or anyone else, really.  
Going against you was not the way to save her, though - and even if it had been, I wondered if I would have been able to do it. As long as Blaise refused to understand that, we would not make up, as much as it pained me.

"Nothing's going to happen to Tracey," I said defiantly. "We're _all_ going to be fine."

As it was, that was far from certain. We had found a way to fix the Cabinet, but that was only step one of the mission we had to complete. The other part would be at least as hard to accomplish: we had to kill Albus Dumbledore.

Draco's first attempt, back in October, had failed miserably and since then, he had not tried again. In my personal opinion, it was for the better - the last thing we needed was to draw unwanted attention to us.  
Still, I figured we had to get on that. Killing Dumbledore would be an impossible task; if even you could not do it, if even you were afraid - how would we ever stand a chance? We could only hope to take him by surprise, but also had to hide our traces. If we got found out, we would spend the rest of our live in Azkaban, unless you deemed fit to free us.

After weeks of brooding about it, I eventually wished we had accepted Snape's offer of help. We were definitely in over our heads and there was no one to ask, no one to advise us - there was not even someone who would ease the burden by just _listening_.

Meanwhile, the snow around the castle was melting, and the first flowers were blossoming. Every time I saw one of them, I was struck by the irony of their life against the death we planned.  
By the first of March, Tracey dragged me outside for studying to catch a bit of sun - we still had to wear three layers of cloaks and scarves, but we did sit in the sun, our Charms books on our laps and our notes strewn on the grass around us.

"I never thought _you'd_ be behind on homework," Tracey noted as we sorted through our notes. "It's so unlike you."

"I'm not behind," I protested weakly, though I was absolutely behind. "My timetable hast just shifted a little."

"Right," she said and gave me a sideways glance. "Merlin knows what you're so busy with. Is it that cabinet you wanted last year?"

At that, I did not even pretend to look at the textbook anymore. Abandoning the studying, I twisted in my position to look at her.  
"I'm busy _studying_ ," I said pointedly.

Tracey lifted one finely-plucked eyebrow at me. "You know," she said. "I've been talking with Blaise about this and he said-"

My mouth dropped open and my fingers clenched tightly around the outermost cloak. "You talk to Blaise about me?"

Tracey's eyes widened as she realized what she had let slip, but it did nothing to quell the heat blazing inside of me. I suddenly understood why you cursed people when you felt disrespected - I was just itching to hex her.  
What was she thinking, gossiping with Blaise when I had made clear - but then, I had never actually made clear why I did not speak to him, had I? I had not trusted Tracey with the kind of sensitive information that would make her see. Now here she was, talking about me, because she did not know better.

"Well, we're _friends_ ," Tracey said. Her voice was shaking but she was clearly defensive, like a child petulantly defending their misbehaviour. "And we're worried about you... you've been acting strange, especially since Christmas-"

Once more, an echo of the pain shot through me, making my palms suddenly sweaty and seemingly drenching my coat.

"Nothing's strange," I shot back, but it sounded strained even to my own ears. "Mind your own business."  
I regretted my words at once, because her face fell and her lower lip trembled. My stomach twisted at the sight - the last thing I wanted was to alienate her as well.  
"Look, I'm fine," I said. "Nothing's wrong, and I would really rather you didn't psychoanalyze me with Blaise-"

"We're not psychoanalyzing."

Both Tracey and I flinched. Blaise had snuck up on us and was looking down at me with an expression bordering on disgust.  
"Also, everything's wrong," he added and glanced at Tracey. "A student has been poisoned."

It was Ronald Weasley.  
Out of Potter's friends, he was by far the one I liked least, but that did not mean that he deserved being poisoned. The story that Blaise told was vague at best: apparently, Weasley and Potter had been in Slughorn's office, where they had shared a drink - and for some reason, Weasley's cup seemed to have been poisoned. Of course, I rather suspected that Weasley had been the only one foolish enough to drink something suspicious, but I could not be sure.

Another thing I was not sure about: the culprit. At this renewed attack to a fellow student, I suspected something more than bad luck, as you may imagine - but before I could go confront Draco, I decided to check on Weasley. No matter if I liked him or not, I would feel terrible if he should die due to Draco Malfoy's foolishness.

I met Potter outside the Infirmary. He stopped dead when he saw me and I could see his fingers reaching for his wand.

My hands rose in a gesture of surrender. "I heard about Ronald," I said. "I wanted to see how he's doing."

"He's asleep," Potter said coldly. "So don't bother going in."

"Oh," I said, though I suppose finding Weasley asleep had to have been suspected. The bloke had just survived a deadly amount of poison, after all. "Then maybe you can tell me how he is?"

"He's fine. I saved him last minute," Potter said.

I swallowed at his expression, his eyes scanning me intently as if he expected me to reveal my guilt any second. Not that I had any guilt to reveal - I, at least, had nothing to do with this particular tragedy.

"Well, good," I said. "I got worried."

"Spare me," Potter said. "We don't need your false pity."

I shook my head at him. "It's not false and it's not pity," I said. "Sorry for being concerned when one of my classmates gets almost murdered in a teacher's office."

He was very clearly not convinced, and can you blame him? I would not have trusted me, either.

Here is the worst thing you did: not that you murdered or tortured, but that you disrupted everything that was good. Every act of peace and tolerance, every notion of unity, you managed to turn into dust until eventually, everyone was left alone and scared.

Draco looked as if he might drop dead any second when I found him that night.  
I had been to the Room of Requirement, which had been curiously deserted and I had even sent Theo up to check the dormitories, which were equally empty. Finally, I had found him in an empty classroom in the dungeons, mostly because, as I passed it, he just crashed a wooden chair against the wall - when I entered, the wood had splintered all over the floor.  
Draco himself was so pale that I could see the veins beneath the skin and his eyes were red-rimmed. He turned away when he saw me staring.

"Weasley's fine, if you wondered," I said.

His voice was shaking when he answered. "I - I don't care about Weasley."

I pushed myself up and sat atop the teacher's desk. Draco had to turn yet again to hide his face from my scrutiny. I chewed on my bottom lip as I watched the tension in his shoulders.

"You should," I said. "He could've died."

There was a long moment of silence until he said, "I didn't want that."

Of course, I knew that. Draco was doing your bidding, but he was not like you. He did not take collateral damage lightly - he did not sow through people like you did just to reach his goal. As much as he hated Weasley, I never once doubted that felt bad about poisoning the guy.

"Slughorn was supposed to give the mead to Dumbledore," Draco continued. "It was a Christmas gift, he got it especially for that... I don't understand why he didn't..."

I let out a deep sigh. It seemed that I was right not to rely on others - one could never know if it worked out or not. Not even teachers could be trusted to give their headmaster presents.

"All right," I said. "This was it."  
Draco shot me a look over his shoulder, eyebrows drawn tightly together.  
"You're not going to try again. No more poisoned gifts, no more little tricks."

He faced me completely. "And what, pray tell, do you want me to do then?" he asked. "Did you forget what I'm supposed to do?"

I had not forgotten. I was more aware of it than ever. In my mind, I could see your eyes blazing as you pointed your wand at me - if that was what you did to me, I could only imagine what you would do to Draco, or his mother.  
I would not let you do it.

"No, I did not," I said. "We're going to do it, the night we let the Death Eaters in. He's going to hurry to the fight, and in the midst of the chaos, it's going to be easy to get him. No one will even know who did it, so we'll be safe."

Draco stared at me for a moment, his jaw clenching and then he finally took two steps backward and sat down heavily on a nearby chair. His eyes became unfocused and his head shook gently from side to side.

"I don't know if I can do it," he uttered finally.

I could not help myself - my mind reached out to his. It was all a whirlwind of helplessness and fury and fear. Draco Malfoy might have been a bully, but he was not a murderer - and he was plain scared to become one. As I sorted through his thoughts, I wondered if he would even be able to do it at all.

"You don't have to," I said.

His head snapped up to meet my eyes. "I do have to," he said.

I shook my head. "No one will see in that chaos," I said. "If push comes to shove, I'll do it."

My heart pounded in my chest and my hands shook violently - fortunately, I was already sitting down, for I doubted that I could stand.  
Before my mind's eye, I saw myself raising my wand, uttering the words; I heard the buzzing of the curse as it searched for its target. I wondered if I would feel different, afterward, if me, the murderess would be different from me, the innocent. Worst of all, I wondered if I would become like you.

"Why?" Draco asked hoarsely.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Why what?"

He swallowed, hard. "Why would do that for me?"

I blinked at him and thought about the reasons; thought about telling him that he was one of my people, about you torturing me, about how grateful I felt to his mother for taking care of me when I had nothing.

"I'd do it," I said slowly. "Because you care - and I don't."

* * *

 **So to everyone who already arrived in 2017: Happy New Year! And to everyone else, stay safe tonight and have fun and I'll see you all in the new year!**

 **(If you want to make my new year especially pleasant, why not leave a review ;)?)**


	17. Death Note

**Thanks to everyone who read, fav'd, alerted and most of all to leeshuwen, Isabeaux3 and xxSorenxx for reviewing!**

* * *

 **Death Note**

* * *

The chirping of the bird was muffled, but unmistakable. It pierced the air like a needle and rang in my ears. It was perky, and excited - and definitely alive. My heart soared with relief. I reached out and flung the door open - and the little canary took of, still chirping madly, fluttered around my head once and then disappeared into depths of the room.

I let out a shaky breath and sat back against one of the shelves lining the walls. It had worked. My fingers trailed lazily over the pages of the book that had helped me. The thick volume lay opened by my side, the pages gleaming with the words that were more saving grace than magic spell. It had worked.

The bird had disappeared from sight, but I could still hear its cries, announcing its present from the dark. This was the first time anything had come back alive - even apples had come back brown and dented before when I sent them through. I would have really regretted it if the bird had been dead.  
The question remained if humans would be able to pass through unharmed - but I would surely not test that when I was alone. For once, I needed assistance.

I needed Draco.  
He had not been to the Room of Requirement for at least two weeks. Sometimes, I suspected he had finally given up. Whenever he looked at me, it was with an air of defeat around him. Up until now, that had been all right with me: I worked best on my own, either way.

Now that I needed a safeguard, I had to go and find him. Maybe, if I reminded him of how he had left me alone with this, he would do the testing for me and I would just have to stand watch; that seemed much preferable.

I picked myself up from the floor, groaning as I did. I had had a long few days and my every bone seemed to hurt as a result. Somewhere in the depth of the room, the bird was chirping desperately.

All this year, we had been in such a hurry; always so much to do, never enough time to reach our goal. Now that we had almost made it - I was not sure if I wanted to reach that goal. What would happen, I wondered as I stepped out of the room and onto the seventh corridor. Barnabas the Barmy was dancing joyously with the trolls around him - what would happen to this school, to all our lives if I helped you win? Would Hogwarts ever be the same?

I wandered through the corridors and descended staircases in a bit of trance - drunk on my own triumph and scared out of my mind at the same time.  
It was only when I passed through the third floor hallway that I was forced out of my stupor, though it was hard to say what registered first: the shouts, the rasped out spells or the splintering and crashing of marble on stone.

Perhaps it was because it was so absurd, but it took me a minute to figure out that it came out of the bathroom. The girl's bathroom. Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.  
You know the one, don't you? It had become infamous after second year and ridiculously populated, too, with people trying to open the Chamber of Secrets. I, of course, could have done it, but never tried - I did not need to see a giant, dead snake, thank you very much. Eventually, going near the bathroom was strictly forbidden; not that anyone wanted to after the hype died down. Moaning Myrtle was too much for most of us. Thanks for that.

Either way, it was definitely from that very bathroom that the noises came from. Two, three steps and I was by the door - my mind reached out and easily detected Draco, who I was so familiar with by now. I did not need to reach for his opponent, because by then, I had opened the door to see the damage.

Potter's stunning spell shot over my head and I ducked, cursing as I hit my elbow against the doorway.  
Neither of them even looked at were completely focused on each other, firing curses at a rapid pace. I fumbled for my own wand, perhaps to end that madness, when I saw the look on Potter's face - something that reminded me eerily of what you looked like when you had resolved to kill.

" _Sectumsempra!"_

Draco let out a horrible cry; blood was spreading over his shirt and his robes, it was running down his face and tainting his hair.  
My heart stuttered and I had to lean against the wall for support while Draco slowly dropped to the floor. Weirdly, I only now noticed that one of the sinks had broken - blood red water was running along the floor.

It was Potter's movement that made my mind snap back into focus. He had started forward, paddling across the floor to Draco.

"Don't!" He flinched, but stopped to face me. "Don't you dare touch him," I ordered and then turned back to the doorway, yelling at the top of my voice. "HELP! WE NEED HELP!"

Water was seeping into my shoes as I crossed the room to get to Draco. His eyelids were fluttering and his breath was shallow. I knelt down to a splashing sound. I briefly thought about burning those robes.

"Hey," I said, but did not dare touch him; cuts were strewn all over his body. "Stay with me, okay, you're going to be fine, it's going to be all right..."

Potter had stumbled backwards and now leant against the wall at the far back, breathing heavily.

"Where's the help?" I shouted. "We need help!"

I cannot tell you if it then took five seconds or an hour until help arrived - all I knew was that Draco was bleeding, my hands were bloody and he did not answer me, did not even stir properly in response to anything I said and my own heart was pounding wildly, blood rushing in my ears.  
And then Snape swooped through the bathroom and swiftly bent down next to me. Before I knew it, he had roughly pushed me aside and I scrambled backwards. Draco shuddered on the floor as Snape traced his wand over the wounds, chanting under his breath. It took a bit to realize the wounds were actually closing, skin knitting together roughly.

I just so dared dragging my eyes away from the scene to glance at Harry, who stood pale and trembling at the back and watched the scene with obvious horror.

"You need the hospital wing."  
Snape had hoisted Draco upwards and I was relieved to see him conscious, if a bit apathetic. He swayed on his legs and Snape had to wrap an arm around him to hold him steady.  
"With a bit of dittany it might not even scar..."

"I can take him, Sir," I said quickly and picked myself up from the floor.

Snape looked me over and nodded. "Make sure to get some Pepper-Up Potion for yourself."

I smiled weakly and slipped Draco's arm around my shoulder. Indeed, as I only know noticed, I was shaking myself and my knees were quite weak.  
Potter shrank even further into this corner when I lead Draco past him and the basest part of me forced me to hiss at him - and truly, it came out as Parseltongue if the widening of Snape's eyes was anything to go by: " _Murderer!"_ , as viciously as if Potter had really killed Draco.

It was good that Madam Pomfrey never asked any questions because neither Draco nor I would have been able to answer any of them. She just took a look at the half-healed wounds all over Draco's body, sighed heavily and got out her stash of dittany. I did not even notice her absence before she had placed a mug of Pepper-Up Potion in front of me.  
It did wonders for my disposition - at last, I did not feel sick anymore. I was, however, suddenly very tired.

Draco, too, immediately slumped back against the cushions, though he had feebly protested against staying the night. Madam Pomfrey just tutted at him and I agreed with her decision: Draco needed the rest.

"Do me a favour?" he rasped out as Madam Pomfrey bustled back to her office. "Kill Potter for me?"

I let out a shallow laugh. "Tempting," I said. "But I figure Snape will do the job for me."

Draco drew in a deep breath. "Good," he said. "'Cause I don't think I have the energy to do it myself."

The Cabinet stole back into my mind as we sat there - I thought about telling him that I had finished it, that we would succeed, that it would soon be over... but Draco had closed his eyes and he suddenly looked so peaceful. I could not find it in me to ruin that peace. Instead, I waited until his breathing evened out and he was firmly asleep.

Madam Pomfrey made me promise that I would return in the morning so she could check on me and hand Draco back over into my custody.

The castle was in a right uproar when I stepped back into it's life. Apparently, Harry Potter was running up and down the castle and someone had found the blood in the bathroom. Rumours were circling madly, but luckily no one had learnt that I played a part in it. I could sit down in the Great Hall and watch the madness without disturbance.

At the Slytherin table, the mood was glum since it had not taken long to figure out Draco missing for dinner.  
Tracey had tears in her eyes and Pansy Parkinson was straight up sobbing. Theo looked as if he might throw up any second and even Blaise was not touching the food in front of him.

I was looking them over, my friends and classmates and knew that I had to finally get this done: I had to put my concerns for Hogwarts' safety aside and end this hellhole of a year. If that meant getting rid of Potter and Dumbledore, then fine. All I wanted was for my people to be safe. I never wanted to see one of them bleeding and writhing on the floor ever again.

"I can't believe this is happening," Tracey said. "It's almost as if the Chamber were open again..."

"This is worse," I said. "This is not done by some monster, this is done by people."

Tracey looked at me with wide eyes. "Are you going to do something about it?"

"Already on it," I promised. "Don't worry."

Tracey nodded faithfully, her trust as absolute as it always was, though I never told her anything. How she managed that, I would never know.

That did not change anything about the fact that I worried - about myself, about my friends, about Hogwarts, about the entire Wizarding World if you will.  
I wanted to protect my home. Look, I love you, you are my father, but I am not naive. I knew that nothing good could come of you having a say at Hogwarts, or anywhere. But I had seen Draco hurt, and I could not stand it. I could not stand to see his family hurt or anyone else of my people, not if I could help it.

So, the next day, I made up some excuse to Pansy why she could not come pick up Draco with me - ("I could go alone, even, I don't see why _you_ would go int he first place-") - and made sure that our plan would finally be put into action. It had taken too long already; we had been at it all year and I was tired.

Draco was healed and rested; not even he tiniest scar remained to be seen. Indeed, Madam Pomfrey seemed anxious to be rid of him, for he had apparently been bothering her with extra wishes. At the news that Potter had received detention for the rest of the year and could not participate in the next Quidditch match, Draco's spirits lifted even higher.

It did not hold long, though, for the moment I had ushered him outside, I told him of the fixed Cabinet. Draco's steps stuttered at the news.

"Are you sure?"

"Well, more or less," I said. "The bird survived, so I figure we can send some Death Eaters through, no problem."

My earlier thought of testing again had fled my mind - I did not want to put either me or Draco through it and I frankly wanted to get things done.

"And if it doesn't work?"

"Then it's my fault," I said without hesitation. "I just need you to notify the Dark Lord."

He cast a look over his shoulder. "Not here," he said and was probably right.  
It would not do to sabotage this mission last minute by being uncautious. Instead, we stole back into the Room of Requirement, where we could be sure not to be discovered.

Draco stopped in front of the Cabinet, staring with something between awe and panic. Somewhere in the dark recesses of the room, the canary was still chirping from now and then.

"Let's get on it," I said.

He swallowed hard, but nodded his head sharply.  
The Dark Mark shone in stark contrast to his pale skin and it seemed more like a scar than just a mark, the skin rose around the skull and snake.

He held out his arm to me. "Do you want to do the honours?"

I rolled my eyes at him, but followed through anyway. Draco winced as my wand pressed into his skin. From where I touched it, a red colour spread through the mark until it was glowing brightly.

Our eyes met as I pulled the wand back. I wished there was a way to utter comfort, just any bit of consolation or assurance, but there was nothing like it to be thought of.  
Instead, I just pocketed my wand and said, "There. Done."

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	18. The Lightning-Struck Tower

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* * *

 **The Lightning-Struck Tower**

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It was a week later that Draco passed me in the morning - as if to avoid the reality of what would be happening, I had started studying for the final exams and had not talked to him at all. I found that I needed a break, either way, after being stuck with him all year. - and he murmured, "Tonight."

He was gone before I could respond, not that I would have had a lot to say about it. There was nothing left to say, nothing left to discuss.

It was a day almost like any other - I went to classes, I sat down at lunch, I carried a bag that was bursting full with notes and books up to my dormitory. As it happened when something uncomfortable was approaching, time both dragged by terribly slowly and rushed past as fast as if I was apparating through it.

Tracey did not notice my tension, but she was buried in her work - much like every year, she feared failing Defence Against the Dark Arts.  
Luckily, she was not the one I needed, anyway.

In a complete breach of protocol - both of the mission you had given and the current relationship I had with him - I sat down by Blaise at dinner. The look he gave me was one of murderous contempt.

"What?"

"Hello to you, too," I said. "I need you to do me a favour."

He let out a laugh that reminded me of you in its coldness. "Why ever would I do that?"

It suddenly struck me that, even when everything was over tonight, even when we would have succeeded, Blaise would still hate me. He would still hold me to a standard that I could not fulfill. It would never be like it had been. It broke my heart and, for a short moment, I _hated_ you for it.  
Now, you may not be able to see how this is your fault, but then you were never good with self inspection, but if it were not for you, I would never have been in this situation. You forced me into a moral conflict that no child should endure - and where you could have released me from this pain, you instead made it very clear that you expected obedience.

You forced me, therefore, to do the best that I could for the people I had to protect, even if I had rather there be no danger at all.

"I can't be there tonight," I said to Blaise, who was still glaring at me. "But you have to make sure no one's leaving the common room. Draco and I have prefect's duty, no one else need be outside. I don't want any Slytherins wandering the school tonight."

His glare faded for an expression of puzzlement. "Why?" he asked.

An obvious question, was it not, but one that I could not risk to answer. "I can't tell you," I said.

"Then I won't do it," Blaise said.

I leant forward. "You have to," I told him. "It's going to be dangerous out tonight. All I ask is that you trust me to keep these people safe." I nodded to the Slytherins, small first years to worldly-wise seventh years, sitting with us at the long table in the Great Hall. "I need you to do the right thing."

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Do you even know what that is?"

I ignored the pang in my chest at his words, I even resisted a biting remark that I surely could have come up with. Instead, I pushed my plate that I had not even touched away and got up.  
"Just do it," I told Blaise. "If not for me, then for them."

I swear to everything that is holy, in that moment I thought it would be enough. Maybe I should have stopped to see the look on Blaise's face, maybe I should have taken into account that my warning would not be taken seriously - but I did not. I just stood and walked away, satisfied that I had taken the appropriate precautions.

The school was a lot more crowded that night than I had thought it would be and I saw some people who were most certainly not prefects as I crossed through the hallways to reach the Room of Requirement to meet with Draco.  
It seemed to get worse the closer I got - did they suspect? I did not know why they would. I had never noticed anyone following us before - how would they have any idea about what we were planning?

Either way, I found Draco hiding about three corners away from our destination in a small alcove. He looked about as bitter and tired as I felt.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Longbottom and the Weaslette are patrolling in front of the room," he said. "I figured it'd be better if we only snuck past once."

"Good thinking," I said. "But we need to hurry, they'll be here soon and I don't want them looming around wildly."

"They'll be looming anyway," Draco said darkly.

"Not where they'll stumble upon innocent students," I said pointedly.  
Honestly, I wanted to make sure that did not happen. It was all that mattered to me - all that was left to worry about. It was bad enough that I was ready to hand my beloved school to the Death Eaters, nobody needed to die for that.

They sure screamed like they were dying when Draco set loose the Instant Darkness Powder - a little something that he had gotten from the Weasley twin's joke shop in Diagon Alley. Admittedly, it was very uncomfortable moving through it; it filed the air with a darkness so complete that it felt like one had gone blind.  
As they wailed and ran into each other, Draco and I pushed through, opened the Room of Requirement and closed the door behind us without any of them seeing.

Not a second too late, too. Three of your minions had already arrived. Bella had apparently gone first - she sneered when we entered, something she surely would not have dared to do had you been present.

"Since when are you a part of this?" she demanded.

"Since when is that any of your business?" I shot back.

Her eyes narrowed even as the Cabinet's door opened and another Death Eater stepped out of it. "The Dark Lord has not mentioned _you-_ "

"Well, my presence goes without saying, doesn't it?"

She pondered that for a moment, clearly not pleased with how things were developing, but she did not protest further. Obviously, she believed that you were in fact informed about it.  
I truly believe that I inherited my talent for telling convincing lies from you.

"You know Yaxley, of course," Bella continued, this time pointedly in Draco's direction. "And Amycus and Alecto Carrow?"

There was only one proper response. "Naturally," I said as Draco nodded solemnly, as if meeting these people was the greatest honour.  
The next figure was not as much of an honour: it was Fenrir Greyback, and to this day, I do not know why you sent him. He was vicious, cruel, the kind of man that had a taste for blood. (And you _hate_ werewolves. Why in Merlin's name would you let him serve you, why would you bring him here?)

There were eight of them after all and it was Bellatrix who was undoubtedly in control. At her command the whole group set in motion and there was nothing to do but watch as it happened. No one but you could have deterred them.

That kind of determination was desperately needed, too. Battle raged as soon as we stepped out that door - curses flew in every direction, even as the remnants of the Darkness Powder still lingered in the air. People screamed and shouted and for a short moment, I could almost see Sirius Black toppling through that arch, it reminded me that much of the battle at the Ministry.  
Only this time, I stood on the other side. Perhaps on the wrong side.

I ducked to dodge a spell that, I was pretty certain, came from our former Defense professor, Remus Lupin - why on earth was he here? - and shot a Stunning Spell back in his general direction. Draco yelled next to me as he was hit by spell that neither of us had seen coming and it left an ugly gash on his forearm.

We fought our way across the hallway and into the light - a cutting charm sent by Ginny Weasley cut my cheek open just as we turned the next corner. It stung, and my hand came away covered in blood when I raised my fingers to the wound.

One of your minions - I vaguely recognized the man I had imperius'd just a year before - dashed past us in the general direction of the Astronomy tower.

"C'mon!" Draco shouted to me. A green light hit an armour nearby and it splintered and crumbled.

In that moment, Fenrir Greyback rushed around the corner, closely followed by Yaxley and Alecto Carrow - all three of them with obvious glee on their faces.  
They were not going towards the tower - as was the plan, as far as I was aware. Of course, _your_ plan might have been different. Perhaps you wanted children dead and wounded, perhaps you wanted as much mayhem as possible. I would not know why, but they were heading downstairs.

Downstairs, where people might have been roused from the racket, people might be patrolling the corridors. Downstairs, where the only thing that protected my friends was the little bit of trust Blaise Zabini might still have in me.

Draco caught my arm when I made to follow them. "We have to go up."

"I can't!" I said. "Don't you see where they're going-?"

He looked as if he was just living his worst nightmare. "You promised me," he said desperately. "You promised, Cassie."

I had. I had promised him to do the duty he owed you. I was going to become a murderer and that only to satisfy you.  
"I'll be there," I swore. "Just wait for me, it'll be fine. But I can't let them..."

I do not know if he understood or not - all I knew was that his grip on my arm loosened, and I tore free.

Not a minute too late. I had been exactly right with my suspicion that people might be out of bed - it was as if the entire school had woken in the middle of the night. It seemed that especially the DA was up and they were just so holding up battling even the few Death Eaters that had come down.

A high-pitched scream pierced my ears when I reached the Entrance Hall. Fenrir Greyback had cornered a group of little Gryffindors, probably only in their first year - this is why I bloody hate Gryffindors, by the way, they have no instinct for self-preservation whatsoever.

"Stop it!" I yelled, but my words were lost over the racket.

Just as I raised my wand to _kill_ the man - or, you know, stun him at least - I was shoved aside only to see a tall, red-haired man run past me and tackle Greyback. The first-years screeched and dashed off in every direction even as Greyback and the ginger rolled on the floor.  
I grabbed one of them by the arm as he passed me.

"Listen to me," I said. "Opposite the second classroom in the dungeons is a tapestry. There's a hidden room behind it. Grab your friends and go!"  
The kid looked frightened out of his mind and stumbled a bit when I sent him on his way again. "GO!" I repeated - and he ran.

Greyback was on his feet again, blood smeared around his mouth - the malicious grin he sent me suggested that it was not his own.  
Against the bile rising in my throat, I called out, "Draco needs you upstairs!"

It was not true, it was probably counter-productive to whatever Malfoy was doing, but I needed him to _leave_. The staircase behind me splintered as it was hit by a Stunning Spell sent from somewhere I could not see. Alecto Carrow let out an enraged scream and sent a terrifyingly green curse flying.

"Don't you dare!"

The sound made my heart drop. It was Blaise - damned Blaise, in his pajamas but with a determined expression and his wand at the ready. He had shoved someone behind him and I was pretty sure it was not a Slytherin, though I could barely see it and his gaze was fixed at Alecto Carrow, who sneered and bared her teeth.

"Run away, little boy!" she called. "Or I'll make it hurt!"

I called out again, hoping to stop it last minute, but Blaise had held his head high and defiantly called back, "Bring it on!" and it had been too late for me to stop it. The curse was flying and he tried to block it - but it was not enough. The spell splintered his shield - it split and hit him in various places.  
He swayed on his feet for a short moment and then crumbled. I hopped down the stairs as fast as I could - whoever he had protected had made a run for it and had left Blaise twitching on the floor.

"Go!" I ordered Alecto, who stopped cackling when I turned to face her. "Go upstairs right now."

"The Dark Lord would-"

"Don't argue with _me_ about what the Dark Lord would want!" I snapped, patience leaving me entirely. "GO!"

She left. If she had not, honestly, I would have cursed her on the spot. As it was, she rushed off and I dropped down by Blaise's side. He was breathing halfway steadily, but he did not react to my words or me shaking him. Where the spells had hit, red blots were forming beneath his skin.

In normal circumstances, I would have gotten Madam Pomfrey, but there was no way I could make my way through the school to reach her right now, much less with a knocked out Blaise to heave along with me.  
This was my fault. It was my damn fault that he had not stayed inside like I told him, if _only_ I had revealed the truth, had _trusted_ him - surely he would have stayed away, then, surely this would have never happened.

People were filing back into the Great Hall now, creeping out of side-rooms and alcoves were they had hidden - a few more Slyterins had apparently found their way upstairs, too, and I saw a few third-year girls looking particularly terrified.

"Cassie - Merlin, what happened to Blaise?"  
It was Tracey, looking more like a Muggle in her worn-out shirt and pajama pants than I had ever seen her and my heart sped up again in fear - if Greyback returned to see her like this...

"He's been hit," I said and added at her horror-struck face, "But he'll be fine. Tracey, you need to get out of here."

"Why?" she demanded. "What is happening?"

Truthfully, I did not know what was happening anymore. A dull thud outside made several people around us flinch, including Tracey who was stuttering her assurance that she would stay right here with me and Blaise, whatever might happen.  
I heard the screeches before I saw anyone approaching. Students were running down the stairs again, some planted themselves in their spot with their wands ready.

Snape was leading the party - he ran, really, firing spells over his shoulders as he went. Draco was following, pulled along between Bellatrix and Yaxley. He stumbled when he saw me and his eyes widened in horror as they dropped to Blaise at my feet.

Teachers were running after them - McGonagall screeching, Flitwick sending pieces of rubble after them, but none of it was enough. Greyback practically _danced_ past me with glee, but I did not move, could not move, not even lift a single finger.  
Had they done it? Had Draco done it?

The doors to the Entrance Hall flew open and the crowd pushed itself outside. Potter, I think, ran past me, shouting madly and incoherently. Then there were the first screams from outside - "it's Dumbledore, it's Dumbledore!" and I knew, before my numb feet carried me outside, Blaise left under Tracey's care, that the headmaster was dead.

The grounds were in disarray, spells still cutting through the night and far away, Hagrid's hut was burning brightly.  
The Dark Mark stood high in the sky above the Astronomy Tower and beneath it, sprawled out on the ground, lay the dead body of Albus Dumbledore.

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	19. Boys Don't Cry

**Thanks to everyone who read, fav'd and alerted since last week! Sadly, no one reviewed, but maybe you'll like this chapter better :)**

* * *

 **Boys Don't Cry**

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Students were pulled out of school by their parents throughout the next couple of days. A few Slytherins left as well, though especially the older ones insisted on staying - half of them were children of Death Eaters, either way, so what had they to be afraid of?  
Tracey stayed, too, but looked utterly defeated when she got a letter from home on day two after the disaster.

"I'll not come back next year," she said. "Mum doesn't think it's safe."

I glanced at Blaise, who weak as he was, had returned from the Hospital Wing to join us for breakfast. Madam Pomfrey had patched him up all right, but the curse had clearly taken its toll on him. It had to have been some dark magic thing thought up by you or one of your followers, for none of the teachers had been able to identify it.

"Maybe she's right," I said. "I would hate for you to get hurt."

Tracey swallowed hard. "You always said we would be safe. That everything would be fine."

My eyes stung with tears that I did not allow myself to shed.  
She was right. I had always promised that. I had said it to everyone who had ears to hear it, had assured everyone - and I had failed to keep my promise. I could not possibly keep it.

Again, my eyes travelled to Blaise, who silently sat beside Tracey. This was also my fault. Him, too, I had told that things would be fine instead of giving full disclosure - and why? Because I had not been able to trust even one of my best friends in the world. For there was no doubt in my mind, now, that I had to make amends for the mistakes of the past and return to the relationship we once had - if it could be done.

"I was wrong, all right?" I said to Tracey, who was still watching me with rising concern. "I thought I could protect you, but I can't. I thought it'd be easy to keep you all safe, even that night, but I... perhaps I underestimated him."

"You knew," Blaise said suddenly. His voice was hoarse and full of sudden realization. "I forgot for a time, but you told me to keep everyone inside..."

"Well, I thought you would do it," I said.

"You wanted to keep us all safe," he said, shaking his head slightly. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Because by the time that I warned him, there was no possibility for a full disclosure, not that there would ever have been a time and place for such a thing. Because I was a loner by nature, because I preferred to solve my own problems instead of bothering other people with them.  
As it turned out, that was not always the wisest course of action. In fact, it had been the worst possible thing to do.

"I'm sorry," I said and hoped to sound as honest as I felt. "I wish I _had_ told you."

Blaise pressed his lips together tightly for a short moment and then he nodded at me. "That's all right," he said. "I get it."  
Tracey nudged him gently in the ribs and after a short hesitation, he rolled his eyes and added, "I get all of it. He's your father and-"

"And he made us murderers," I said. "Others he makes victims. No one's safe... You're right, Blaise, you've been right all along, but what am I going to do?"

Tracey and Blaise sat in stunned silence for a moment and then, almost in perfect synchronisation, reached across the table to take my hands.  
The tears fell, then, though they were now more due to a general overload of emotion than to sadness or shame.  
Blaise said something that made me both sob and laugh at the same time. "It's going to be fine," he said. "Trust me, Cassie."

Dumbledore's funeral was held on the very last day of the term. A day that was usually so cheerful became suddenly so somber.  
Not a single inhabitant of the castle dared not show up. Even Professor Trelawney had come down from her tower. Pansy Parkinson sat down a row in front of me and had to wipe tears from her eyes - as far as I could tell, they were even honest.

Not to be untruthful, I had never thought Dumbledore to be the saint that the Gryffindors had taken him for. I had thought him to be a bit of a fool, I had thought him prejudiced against Slytherins, had thought him a terrible teacher for regularly putting his students in danger.  
That day, though, it did not seem like we were just burying that man - it was like we were burying Hogwarts itself. We were burying the wizarding world as we knew it.

Ministry officials had settled into the chairs up front, as well as people I was sure belonged to the Order of the Phoenix. I spotted Fred and George Weasley, but did not dare speak to them - I was not sure how they would take my presence and I did not want to cause a scene. The castle's ghosts were assembled as well, only spottable because their matter eventually became dense enough to see even in the bright spotlight when they floated in a row.

"Look," Blaise said, tipping me on the shoulder. "It's Umbridge!"

Indeed, Dolores Umbridge had seated herself with a false, over-done look of grief in the front row, though as far away as possible from Professor McGonagall.

"Unbelievable," muttered Tracey and I could not help but think that I was sitting here, too, and I would have killed Dumbledore myself if it had come to that.

"Don't beat yourself up," Blaise said, apparently guessing my thoughts from the look on my face. "You didn't do it. You're still here."

"And Draco's gone," I said. "I promised him I'd be there... he was so terrified, Blaise, I'd promised him I'd do it, but I just..."

"You stayed with me, instead," Blaise said pointedly. "And Draco didn't have to do it, either way. So don't beat yourself up."

He was right, of course. By now, everyone knew what had transpired - everyone knew that Severus Snape had murdered Albus Dumbledore in cold blood, with the ruthless precision only a devoted Death Eater could muster.

I felt both sickened and grateful when I thought of it - sickened by the thought of someone being so cold, so deceiving, that Snape would be able to do this to a man who had put all of his trust in him; and grateful, because I knew how broken Draco would have been had he been forced to do it after all.

Hagrid carried Dumbledore's body down the aisle between the chairs, weeping as he went. Tracey buried her head against Blaise's shoulder as he passed us. As he approached the lakeside, the merpeople rose from the waters and sang a beautiful, wayward song.

I do not know what I expected - speeches, perhaps, pathetic appeals for unity and remembrance, but instead, silence fell as Hagrid laid the body on a table upfront.

Due to us sitting so far in the back, I heard the screams before I saw what was causing them.  
Bright, white flames erupted around the body and encompassed the table. The fire rose, higher and hire, smoke spiralled into the air in intricate shapes.

It stopped as quickly as it started: the flames died down all at once, and in their place was a marble tomb, standing proudly and shimmering in the sun.  
Arrows rained down into the lake - the centaurs had appeared from the woods and brought their own tribute. Even as I watched, they turned on their heel and disappeared back into the Forbidden Forest's darkness.

Tracey was openly weeping now. "I'm just so scared," she choked out between her sobs as Blaise handed her a tissue. "I'm so scared that I'll have to bury you guys, too."

"We'll do our best to stay alive," Blaise promised.

"Right," I said. "I even have a pretty good shot at it."

She laughed between her tears. "Just write to me, yes?"

While Blaise assured her that we would write to her, every day if that was what she wanted, my eye had been caught by something else. It was Potter, Weasley and Granger - the three did not only look crushed and frightened like the rest of the world around us; they looked strangely determined.  
I knew that look on them, had seen it so often already - it was the look they had when they were going on a potentially lethal adventure.

"Excuse me," I said to Blaise and Tracey, who started when I got up. "I'll be right back with you."

My first thought had been to get close enough to hear what they were saying, but I soon gave up on that plan. It was too crowded, and for the somber atmosphere of a funeral, people were surprisingly chatty. I would never get to hear anything without standing right next to them - and that would quite defeat the purpose.

Look, until that day, I had always thought your talk of immortality was metaphorical. At best, I had considered it one of your delusions of grandeur. I had not thought it _possible_ , you know? Of course, I knew about the Philosopher's Stone, but even that did not protect anyone from being killed. You were brilliant, but I had thought that was the one barrier even you could not cross. I had been sure that being immortal was impossible.

What I heard in Potter's thoughts that day was very different.  
It was difficult getting clarity at first. His mind was in turmoil - snippets of current conversations mixed with pictures from Dumbledore's last night and horrifying visions of the future.

There was one word that stood out. One word that all his thoughts circled around, the one thing he always came back to.

 _Horcruxes._

It is not often that I do not know something. I have always studied hard, I always sucked up every little bit of knowledge about the wizarding world like a sponge.  
So when I heard _Horcruxes_ over and over, my first thought was that such a thing did not exist and that Potter had surely misheard or was making things up.  
Then I heard Hermione Granger say it, too - or think it, rather, though it rang so loudly in my ears as if she had actually shouted it.

The word was thought both with fear and disgust and it made me sick to my stomach just from hearing it.  
They all knew - even Weasley's ever-straying thoughts sprinkled in the world every so often. That, of course, was terrible, because it meant that the did not need an explanation - which was exactly what _I_ needed.  
All I knew was that this was some terrible thing, something horrifying and evil, but I did not know what it was. I had to know.

So I followed, even as Potter was lead away by the Minister of Magic himself. Their talk as such was irrelevant to me; it did not matter to me that the Minister wanted Potter's support or that Potter blatantly refused.

"C'mon," I muttered to myself, willing him to reveal what I wanted to know. "Come on!"

Then there it was: just for a split second, a side-thought, a quickly-pushed aside memory, thought about only so shortly that I almost missed it.

 _Slughorn looked apprehensive, agitated - almost scared._  
 _'To rip the soul into seven pieces... One splits ones soul and hides part of it in an object... This is entirely hypothetical, isn't it, Tom?'_

 _You smiled and it seemed to brighten the entire room. 'Of course, Sir... It'll be our secret..."_

This time, I felt so sick that I had to actually bend over and breathe heavily against the heaving. What would people think if I vomited all over the green?

"Cassie?" It was Tracey, of course, who could not stay away even when I needed her to. "Merlin, what is happening?"

I shook my head and attempted to push her away.  
This was too much. This was far too much. Finally, I knew your secret. I knew what it was all about, I knew how you had survived for so long. I understood - and I wished that I did not.

You had split your soul; how, I did not care to know for now - you had split your soul and hid the parts away and now you could not be killed; not for good, at least.  
I did not once doubt what Potter and his friends were going to do. They were going to go out and find the parts, destroy them one by one.

"Cassie," Tracey said again. Blaise, too, had wrapped an arm around me to help me up and I leant gratefully against him. "What-?"

"He's immortal," I whispered before I could help myself. "Sweet Merlin, he really is..."

"What are you talking about?" Blaise demanded, but I could not answer it. I barely knew what I was talking about.

All I knew - for certain, from that moment on - was that Potter needed the best of luck. He needed to succeed.  
You had split your own soul - you had become immortal, yes, but you had made yourself a mere caricature of humanity. I understood the fear and disgust now; I felt those things myself. This was not natural. This was more than mere evil. I did not want anything like you to roam the same earth that I lived on.

And I _loved_ you. I still do and it tore me apart inside.  
Two years before, when Cedric Diggory had died by your order, the headmaster we had just buried reminded us that we needed to choose: between what was right and what was easy. Up until now, I realized, I had done the easy thing. I had stood by and watched evil happen, always relying on the excuse that you were my _father_ , after all.

No more, I decided then.  
I looked on Blaise and Tracey and knew that I could be still no longer. You would never care about their well-being, or mine - because you could not. You had torn your soul apart. There was no choice between man and monster, there was only one of them left.  
And if I could put an end to it, I would.

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	20. I Don't Bow

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* * *

 **I Don't Bow**

* * *

The trouble with my new resolution was this: you could not know. I had to go home - or rather, your chosen place of residence, Malfoy Manor this time - and pretend that everything was fine. That I was happy Dumbledore was dead. That I did not know about Horcruxes. That I wished for you to rule Wizarding Britain, and, if could be arranged, the whole world.  
It was hard to pretend around you.

I was in luck, though, albeit it coming in the form of misfortune. You were incredibly upset with me.  
I had successfully kept from you my involvement in Draco's task and you had not wanted me to be involved - if because you cared for my safety or you wanted Draco punished, I did not know. Either way, I was under the impression you were not happy that Draco had succeeded.

"I didn't want you involved!" you hissed.

"I wasn't on the tower," I said.

Mrs Malfoy had leant you her husband's study while he was in Azkaban and even when you freed him - you freed all of them, broke open the gates and led the prisoners out, Dementors following - you just kept the room. As if it had been yours all along.  
You had summoned me in here, like some rule-breaking child to a headmaster, and I detested it.

"Bellatrix told me of your presence at the Cabinet."

Bloody gossip. "Awesome," I said. "Wow! You _caught_ me. I don't want Draco dead."

You know, I had never heard you shout before, so it took me a bit by surprise when you did. "I wanted him to complete the task I set by himself!"

"You wanted him to fail!"  
Your lip curled. I expected the pain to come already, but it did not - and because I could not help myself anymore, because I had been angry this entire year, I did not stop myself when you did not do it for me.  
"You wanted to punish _him_ for his father's failures, you wanted Draco to die!"

The small twist of your mouth turned into a malicious grin. "So what if I did?"

"Then I did the right thing!" I spat. "I will stand for a lot of things! I was quiet as you tortured people or killed them - Merlin, I kept quiet even when you raised your wand against me. But I won't let you torture _my people_. I won't let you kill Draco. I owe him better than that."  
By now, tears were stinging in my eyes, though I refused to shed them. I refused to let you see such a thing of weakness.  
"I owe myself better than that," I finished breathlessly.

Because this was not a pretty story and because you were not a real parent, or a real human-being that could be convinced of anything but their own opinion, this did not end in my victory. You did not clap me on the back or begrudgingly admit that I had a point.  
No, you tortured me like I knew you would, until my throat was raw from the screams unwillingly ripped from it.

There was only one thing that I would not let you rip from me: that deepest part of my mind, protected by the strongest wall I could muster - the part that held the secret and all that I felt about it.

It was that that I held onto during those hours when you thought you could torture the defiance out of me. You could not, by the way. I could play obedient, and meek, and afraid. I think I even made you believe it and that is saying something. You should have known better, too. After all, were we not just alike, you and I?

The most curious thing, was that you could just move on after such a thing, as if nothing had ever happened. As if you had not caused me the worst pain of my life. As if I did not wake up every night in cold sweat when I was haunted by it once again.  
You got up the next morning and lived as if nothing had ever angered you. I believe you honestly thought that it did not change a thing.

You were the only one, though - Draco knocked on my door later, when you were out one day the week after, his expression filled with obvious concern.

"How are-?" he started, then shook himself as if he had thought better of it. "I mean, I heard what happened... Everyone heard, that is, and I just wanted to see-"

It was one the tip of my tongue to tell him that I was fine - and then I remembered that lying and inducing false hope in people was something that I had just resolved not do anymore.  
"Had a bit of a rough time," I admitted. "Thanks for your concern."

"He... He tortured me, too," he said. "Because I failed."

"You didn't fail," I said and truly meant it. "You did the best you could. It's not your fault it wasn't good enough for the Dark Lord."

"You shouldn't say such things," Draco said.

"It's still true," I said.

He obviously was right - and for the following weeks, we both kept our head down and did not mention the past school year anymore. We pretended that while everything was changing - while you took the Ministry, while Snape became headmaster of Hogwarts, while Dark Arts became an actual subject - we pretended that this had nothing to do with us. That we had not played a part in any of it.

It was the right thing to do, both for our safety in this household as for our peace of mind.  
I had to lock myself away for two days after a final letter from Tracey; she was leaving the country with her parents while they still had the chance and she said she would not write to me again as to not risk being discovered.  
She had written the exact same thing to Blaise, it turned out, and he messaged me to say so and add, at once, that this was not my fault.

 _You redeemed yourself already,_ he wrote to me, as if this was some book and I was a villain on a redemption arch. _And either way, you never meant to hurt her. You only ever meant to save Draco._

It was true - and yet Tracey's having to flee was still my fault.  
As well as yours, of course. Mostly yours. It was for that reason that I had to hide myself away, because I doubted that my anger at you could have stayed behind the walls of my mind.

See, there soon came a time when pretending that everything was all right became impossible.  
You regularly gathered the Death Eaters around in the evenings, both for intimidation and strategic planning. Intimidation first and foremost, though. And, of course, because it was you, you threw in the occasional bit of torture.

It was usually easy to ignore it - did that make me a terribly bad person? I realize you are the wrong person to ask, but perhaps you still understand my worry. - but on one day in late July, you made it absolutely impossible to ignore.

I had never taken Muggle Studies, (kind of pointless, is it not, when one already knows about the Muggle world and never intends to go back), but of course I knew Professor Burbage, even when she was bloody and floating upside down in the Malfoy's drawing room.

"What's this?" I asked.

Across the room, Draco was shaking his head slightly, though he did not look up, neither at me nor at the woman floating over his head. His mother and father were sitting at either side of him, equally tense.

"Miss Burbage has graciously agreed to join us tonight," you said, without turning to me.

"Yes, I can see that," I said. "My question was more as to the why."

You turned to me then, eyes narrowed even more than usual. "Sit," you ordered. "Or be gone."

Professor Burbage was turning in the air as if of her own accord and I knew that I could not very well turn around and leave. Not that I was not curious - it was only every so often that I got to hear the secret plans.  
So I walked in further and sat down next to Narcissa Malfoy.

"We were just talking about how to get to Potter," you informed me and then turned back to your followers, who were almost all shrinking under your gaze. "If we cannot touch the boy at his destination, it must be done while he travels."

"We are at an advantage there!"  
Yaxley, it turned out, sat right across from me and was almost bobbing in his seat with the need to prove himself valuable.  
"We now have several people within the Department of Magical Transport, so if he apparates or uses the Floo Network-"

"Unlikely, innit?" I asked. "Chances are, he'll use whatever way is not getting him noticed."

Personally, I thought him going by broom most likely - he would feel most comfortable like that and it _was_ relatively inconspicuous. If it had been me, I would have tried to go by any method of Muggle Transportation available to me. For a split second, I imagined you chasing me through the tube.

"I shall attend to the boy in person," you said, your eyes curiously fixed on Professor Burbage revolving above. "I must be the one to kill Harry Potter, and I shall be. I shall, however, need to borrow a wand from one of you."

The atmosphere grew immediately tense. All your Death Eaters shifted uncomfortably - and no wonder. Parting with their own wand was the nightmare of most wizards, leaving them vulnerable and defenseless.  
For the first time, I thought you to be rather predictable. If I had had to pick your victim, I would have made the exact right choice - and it seemed, by the tensing of Lucius Malfoy's shoulders, that he, too, knew what was coming.

"Lucius," you said. "I see no reason for you to have a wand anymore."

Mr Malfoy's voice was shaking and hoarse. "My Lord, I-"

My mind was rushing through the possibilities - to let you just carry on, to speak up, to just walk out as long as I could still allow myself that - and then, my eyes fell on the golden cutlery in front of me, and even though it all belonged to the Malfoys, I realized in a split second that I could now afford to buy a new wand whenever I wanted.

" _You can have mine_."

The only thought-through thing about it was to use Parseltongue - even that little bit of defiance, I figured, was more safely made in the relative privacy of a language only you and I spoke.

" _Don't you need one?"_

Oh, I did. I did not even necessarily want a new one; but I could waltz into any shop I could think of and buy a new one, while Mr Malfoy was not allowed outside the house.

 _"I figure we can just switch."_

We probably could have. Honestly, taking my wand would probably have been the best choice: the wand chooses the wizard and we, at least, were related.  
That would not have been as humiliating for the Malfoys, though, would it? I suppose _that_ after all, was more important to you than killing Potter.

 _"But you'll need it,"_ you said and wandered slightly towards me. The rest of your cronies were staring at us with wide eyes and terrified expressions. I wondered why the language of snakes was so scary to the members of Slytherin's house.  
" _For Miss Burbage_."

You plucked the wand from Lucius Malfoy's wand. The man flinched, but you did not pay attention. Instead, you pointed it straight at the unconscious professor over the table. My stomach coiled tightly as she stirred and struggled against her invisible bonds.  
Once again, you had become predictable. She would not walk out of here alive - and if your words were anything to go by, it would be because of me.

"For those of you who do not know," you announced, and had switched back into the usual, widely-understandable English. "We are joined here tonight by Charity Burbage... She taught the children of witches and wizards all about Muggles - how they are not so different from us..."

One of your disgusting underlings spat on the floor at your words. Meanwhile, Professor Burbage had revolved to see Snape sitting at the top of the table.

"Severus," she whispered in a quiet, broken voice. "Please... Severus, please..."

You leant down next to my ear and I shivered as you spoke, just for me, again. " _You should put her out of her misery._ "

I felt everything all at once: that I could not possibly do it. That I would rather do it myself than have Draco be forced to do it - or leave her to you and your minions. That this was your punishment for me and I did not want to bow to it. That I had to do it if I, at least, wanted to walk out of here unscathed.  
Tears were pouring from Professor Burbage's eyes into her hair. I wondered if killing her would tear my soul apart like murdering had yours.

" _Cassandra-_ "

My wand was shaking in my hand and yet its aim was straight. Could I do it? I could not do it.  
" _Avada Kedavra!_ "  
My voice was clear and determined, none of my insecurity betrayed by its sound. The green light soared through the room and Professor Burbage's eyes widened slightly - and then she was dead. Just like that.

Her body fell with a maddening thump onto the table below her - and next thing I knew, I had locked the door to my rooms behind me and was on my knees in the bathroom, heaving over the toilet.

* * *

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	21. Not Over Yet

**Thanks to everyone who read, fav'd, alerted and most of all to guest "j" for reviewing (no worries about your English, I'm not a native speaker, either, so I know it's hard :) )**

 **I hope you enjoy the new chapter :)**

* * *

 **Not Over Yet**

* * *

I do not think I ever told you - though I suppose you knew - but I did make Head Girl that year.  
Of course, it was not as much of an achievement as I had always thought it would be. Hermione Granger was not there anymore to compete with and honestly, who else would they have given it to, when you had control over school and Ministry alike? It was a matter of course and therefore robbed me of all the satisfaction I had looked forward to.

I sent the prefects off to patrol the train - though I did not really expect any trouble. Only about half the students seemed to have returned and those who had clearly meant to keep their head down.  
So after the meeting was finished, I returned right back to the compartment I had picked out with Blaise.

While I enjoyed his company, our voyage seemed awfully lonely and miserable without Tracey. Some part of me, I suppose, had still hoped that I would see her on the platform despite her notice. Blaise obviously had thought the same thing - I had seen him turning his head to look over his shoulder several times before we boarded.  
Draco had sent me a tense smile and then joined his usual group of friends. Curiously, none of them looked very happy with the prospect of returning, not even Pansy Parkinson.

"I would have thought your Death Eater friends would be more cheerful," Blaise commented as a group of fifth-year Slytherins, Daphne's sister Astoria among them, slunked by our compartment.

"I can't imagine why they would be," I said. "The Dark Lord demands absolute obedience without regard for your life or your family or your well-being."

"What new sounds," Blaise said, but it did not sound half as hostile as it might have. "Do you honestly think they're all just afraid?"

"Not to begin with," I said. "They hope to gain power... but at what cost? Once you're in, it's already too late."

The sound of Professor Burbage's lifeless body hitting the tabletop rang in my ears again. I had the sudden urge to tell Blaise - and maybe I should have, I almost knew that I should; that it was unhealthy to keep it bottled up. Had I not _just_ learnt that keeping secrets was wrong? But the moment that I thought of it, I also imagined the look of disappointment and horror on Blaise's face. Surely, he would never look the same at me again if I told him. I could not bear to see that expression directed at me. Not again.

"Is it too late for you?" Blaise asked suddenly. "Did he hurt you?"

"What do you think?" I said. "He wasn't pleased at all about last summer."

"I thought he got what he wanted," he shot back with a tone that portrayed absolute disgust with your actions. "Dumbledore's dead, the school's run by Death Eaters..."

I scoffed. "He will never be satisfied," I told him.  
I truly believe that was true, by the way. You lacked so much - true compassion, or friendship or sheer humanity - that nothing, no act of obedience, no fulfilment of your orders could ever be enough. It was devastating, but you made it impossible to live happily in your presence.  
"If he wants to punish someone, he will, cause or not. But I can bear it, Blaise. I can bear it for now."

Blaise watched me intensely; it was almost uncomfortable to sit under his scrutiny. It was not unfriendly, though - even without my power of Legilimency, I knew that it was born out of worry over me and the realization made me feel warmer. You, my father, did not care, but Blaise did.

"Good," he said. "But talk to me - we already lost Tracey-"

"We'll get Tracey back," I said firmly. I did not yet know how, but I knew that Potter was out there, trying to destroy your Horcruxes; and since Hermione Granger was with him, he might actually stand a chance. "This is not over yet."

The lack of students became even more apparent when we arrived in the Great Hall. While most of Slytherin House had returned, there were obvious gaps at all of the other tables.  
One absence gained more attention than the others: everyone was pointing to the Gryffindor table and muttering about three consecutive spots that the students had apparently left free on purpose.

"Potter's not here," everyone whispered. "Harry didn't show up!" I even heard someone say, "He abandoned us!"

They disregarded, of course, that Potter would have been exceptionally stupid to return to Hogwarts. The school was now firmly in the Death Eaters' hands. The Carrow twins had become teachers, which I thought them to be less than qualified to do.  
One had taken up Muggle Studies - which made me sick to my stomach just thinking about it - and the other took Dark Arts.

Here is the thing: I have no qualms about using Dark Magic. I would even use an Unforgivable if that was what needed to be done, had done so before. I sometimes revelled in the Dark Arts, you know it as well as I do, but I could also control it. No first-year could ever hope to do such a thing. Honestly, I would not advice to attempt any of it before the O.W.L.s.  
You clearly did not agree with that assessment. Did you not have enough experience to know that first-years were better off being taught Defence than dark magic? Sometimes, I honestly do not understand - what was your point? Coming off as evil just to be evil? Where was the sense in your actions?

Another thing: why in Merlin's name would you make Severus Snape headmaster?  
Not that I disliked him per se, but come on. I do not think that Hogwarts ever had a less respected headmaster. The Slytherins thought him merely a puppet - the others thought him to be a traitor. Neither were right, but of course we did not know this back then and it was beside the point, anyway.

It was for that reason that Snape was greeted with the full of my unbecomingly bad mood when he passed by the Slytherin table before the feast.

"Miss Riddle..."

"We dined together not three days ago," I retorted and watched Blaise's fingers tighten around a cup of pumpkin juice instead of facing Snape. "There's no need for that kind of formality, Severus."

"Is that how this year is going to be?" Snape asked.

"This is how _forever_ is going to be," I said. "Welcome to the Dark Lord's world."

Snape sneered, but I did not mind. I intended to take full advantage of my heritage this year - what good was it to be your daughter if I could not at least pick the people I respected.  
Besides, it was absolutely all right with me if Snape and the others thought me merely an arrogant girl; that kind of resentment made people blind to my true intentions.

"If you're going to be outrageous," Snape said. "How about you focus on _them_ instead?"

He nodded in the direction of the Gryffindor table and swept away when I followed his gaze. It was Ginny Weasley and I knew the expression on her face. I knew the determination to do something reckless yet brave in the way she exchanged looks with Luna Lovegood across the hall; knew it in the way she nudged Neville Longbottom in the ribs. I knew those conspiratory moves, had once been a part of it.  
Dumbledore's Army was at it again.

"What are you looking at?" Blaise asked, turning in his seat.

"I'm looking at trouble," I said. "Trouble we'll be wanting to join."

Blaise raised an eyebrow at me. "Will we?"

"Why, Blaise," I said. "I thought you were the one who wanted to take a stand."

He did not seem entirely convinced, but that was all right - I was not convinced yet, either. I could see on the Weaslette's face that she wanted to rebel and I felt like I wanted to do the same. Trouble was, my idea of rebelling was probably very different from Ginny's and I certainly had less incriminating ideas.

"Well," Blaise said. "Maybe we can postpone that decision until we've had food and sleep."

Food was supplied as plentiful as usual - at least some things did not change. Sleep was a completely different matter, though.  
Theo Nott and I had agreed not to plan prefect duty on the train; we had somehow thought that we would find it easier by the pleasant warmth of the common room fire.

I only briefly got to ponder the fact that this had to be the first time in years that two people from the same House had been made Head Boy and Girl; much less two people from Slytherin - before I had quite finished thinking about it, we were already in deep.  
Planning prefect duty was not as easy as I had thought it would be. There were somehow both too many and too little prefects and I started having headaches within ten minutes.

"That what you imagined?" Theo asked.

I groaned and let my forehead hit the tabletop. "No, it's not."

"You know, with great power comes great responsibility."

I raised my head and shook it at him. "Since when do you know _Spiderman_?"

He grinned at me, but did not offer an explanation - not that I particularly wanted one. To each their own pleasure, I say, even though I suspected that Theo usually guarded this pleasure rather closely. I did not even want to imagine what his father might say about reading Muggle comic books.

"Either way," I said. "I _am_ responsible, I'm just also very tired."

Theo nodded, and gathered the papers towards him. "Rough summer?"

Another groan broke from my throat before I could help it. I had had a rough summer indeed. "Let's just say you can be glad we're not staying at your place anymore."

"No offense," Theo said with a small smile. "But I already was."

I was not offended. You would have been, I am sure - you would take the last shirt of a man's back and then get offended when they complained about being cold. I, however, had suspected all along that Theo would be glad to see us go; and I was sure that Malfoys shared the sentiment.

Theo stuffed our temporary plan into a pocket of his robe and it seemed like this was some kind of signal for our classmates to descend on us like a swarm of locusts.  
Pansy and Daphne squashed onto a loveseat to my right while Draco and his cronies took up their spots on the couch. Blaise, it seemed, had enough strength left to just lean against the fireplace.

"So, _Princess,_ " Draco said. "What's the directive for this year?"

I raised my eyebrows at him. "Since when are you intent on listening to me?" I asked. "I always dish out orders and you all refuse to listen until it hurts."

"You're the Dark Lord's daughter, aren't you?" Pansy said and did not sound half as spiteful as she usually did. "I figure we'd better listen to you... considering how things are going, you know?"

I knew. Still, it was quite something to hear Pansy Parkinson of all people admit that they might just need my help. It also spoke miles about the fear that had descended on Slytherin house. Parkinson's father was a Death Eater, too - and while she could not influence how well _he_ did in your eyes, she at least could do well by me.

"Fine," I said. "You want my advice? Keep your head down and your mouth shut. Nod and smile when the Carrows ask you to. Keep a stiff upper lip. Don't do anything rash. And if you ever feel like you need to do something other than that - come to me first."

Pansy shifted uncomfortably, Draco raked a hand through his hair and Blaise pushed off the wall to come a little closer. Only Greg and Vince seemed about as oblivious as ever - my only comfort was that they would do whatever Draco told them to do without question. Three birds with one stone, so to speak.

"And you?" Theo asked. "What will you do?"

" _I_ ", I answered. "Will make sure that Hogwarts stays the safe place it is supposed to be. For you, and for every other student."

Vince suddenly sat up and frowned at me. "Even for Mudbloods?"

Especially for them, I thought to myself.  
Mind you, I had never believed that Muggleborns were 'just the same' as Potter and his friends liked to promote - there was no denying that Muggleborns had a different way of experiencing magic and even practicing it. That did not make them worse wizards and witches or lesser people - it just made them different.  
It was easy to care for people who were just like you; it took more to care for those who were different. I would never be satisfied with just the easy option.

" _Every_ student," I repeated and looked around the group once more. The tension was still obvious. "So are you all right with that, or not?"

"I am," Blaise said without hesitation and Theo nodded right along.

"Me, too," Draco said. "So are Crabbe and Goyle."

"And us," Daphne said and nudged Pansy in the ribs when she did not react. "We're in as well."

"Good," I said. "Excellent."  
Now we could get to work.

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	22. Bad Form

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* * *

 **Bad Form**

* * *

Amycus Carrow did not waste any time.  
He did not start his class with an introductory speech or simpler curses or a theoretical bit about the foundation of the Dark Arts - I actually do not think that he had any of this knowledge, to be honest, but I was not willing to cut him even a bit of slack for being an idiot. He was a teacher, after all.  
He started right off with the Cruciatus Curse.

He wanted us all to be able to do it, you see. "You'll need it!" he announced with obvious glee. "'specially them prefects among you."

What _were_ you hoping to achieve by placing these people here? I sometimes suspected that you just wanted them off your hands, and I get that. But this, honestly, was over the top.  
I understand that you built your rule on fear and terror, your approval the only path to redemption - but I also figure there ought to be some order to things. Personally, I would not want fifteen-year-olds running around with the power to hand out punishments in the form of the Cruciatus Curse, no matter the kind of empire I was building.

The Carrows loved every second of it. They especially loved it when things went wrong. When the pain was too bad, the dose too strong - so to speak - and people passed out. Had to spent days in the Hospital Wing. Had to be sent home.  
So Amycus did not want to teach us finesse or precision. The only thing he taught was brute strength.

"But, Sir," Daphne Greengrass, who was apt at being polite even to the most outrageous people, asked. "Who should we practice on?"

"Well, on each other, I suppose, eh?" Carrow responded with gleaming eyes. "No one else about."

"No," I said. "No way."

Carrow turned with a vicious sneer, no doubt intent on giving the class a first-hand example of how to use the Cruciatus Curse - and his face fell immediately when he saw that it was I who had spoken.

"I'm not raising my wand against any of my classmates," I said.

He looked taken aback and more than just a little confused about how to proceed. "Well, I suppose you don't need it anyway-"

I was tempted to tell him just how spectacularly he had missed the point, but supposed that he would not understand it if I phrased it that way.  
So I looked around the room - Vince and Greg looked incredibly excited and it was enough to make me think that they could just try it on each other if they wanted. Daphne, however looked terrified and Pansy was trying to hide the same feeling by wearing the usual haughty expression. Draco looked paler than ever and even Blaise was obviously tense.

"None of us are going to do it," I said. "Not going to work anyway, you have to really mean it and none of us really mean to hurt the other."

Carrow shifted again - I wondered about the look on the others' faces now, but did not dare take my eyes from Amycus. He better not think that I would give even an inch.  
"Well, I really don't know-"

At this point, I was almost ready to offer a first-hand presentation, surely _he_ would volunteer as the subject - but I also figured that I did not need to bring out all the heavy cannons just yet. Every thing at the right time.

"Find another way," I said. "How about the Imperius for the time being?"

That was all it took for him to change his entire lesson.

Using the Imperius Curse was not much better in terms of moral questionability, but it was still different from straight-up torture. Most did not do very good at it - Vince and Greg, being terribly disappointed at the lost chance to cause pain, did not once manage to cast a decent curse.  
Blaise did better than them, but his curse on me did not hold long. Mine did on him, though I had to admit that he put up a decent fight - it might have been, though, because I did not care to put him under quite as far as I might have an enemy in real life.

"You should _not_ be that good at this," he grumbled when we left class later. "It's creepy."

"You haven't seen creepy," I said. "You just wait until he finds a way for the Cruciatus Curse."

There was no doubt in my mind that Carrow would indeed find a way and I was even convinced that I would not like it.

"Why'd you stop him anyway?" Draco asked as he and his two cronies caught up to us.  
Vince and Greg looked like the definition of bummed out, if you catch my drift. It is truly a wonder why you never properly recruited them - they would be just your type: simple-minded and good at following orders, yet delighted by any sort of torture they could inflict.  
"It's not like you can save our souls forever."

My stomach twisted at his words. He had no idea how very precisely he had hit the nail on the head. The Cruciatus Curse might not hurt their soul yet - not in the way I was worried about anyway - but it was only a very small step from torture to killing.  
Before my inner eye, the dead body of Charity Burbage hit the tabletop again and it felt like my soul was being torn apart in that very moment.

"Just let me try, won't you?" I said.

He inclined his head in acquiescence before he and the two others made a turn for the common room and left Blaise and I to head for dinner on our own. The ceiling was dark and stormy just like the weather outside.

"I know there's something you're not telling me," Blaise said suddenly. "Something important."

"We both know I love keeping secrets," I said.

His eyebrows drew together and I turned my head to escape his gaze.  
So I did not want him to know I was a murderer - was that really so bad? Did I truly have to disclose that - only in the name of honesty? I understood that I had got myself in a tight spot last year by keeping secrets - had endangered Blaise, especially, but did that really mean that every little white lie had to be laid open?  
I almost scoffed at myself - _little white lie_. This was not little and it was not white. I had murdered a woman.

Across the hall, Neville Longbottom had just dropped into his seat. He was pale and sweaty, and had a bit of dishevelled look about himself. Only on the second look did I spot something much more concerning: a bit of blood dribbling from his hairline down his face.

"What happened to _him_?" I asked.

Blaise groaned. "Don't divert, Cassie-"

"I'm not diverting. Look!" I pointed at Longbottom and heard Blaise suck in a sharp breath.

There was a rustling at our table and when I glanced over my shoulder, I found that Astoria Greengrass had shifted from her spot further down to join us. She had the same overjoyed twinkle in her eye that her sister Daphne always got when there was something new to gossip about.

"Oh, _he_ ," she said "He was mouthing off to Professor Carrow. Her, I mean." She nodded towards the teachers' table, where Alecto Carrow sat with a face as if she had just bitten into a lemon. "She got really mad."

"Did she-?" Blaise asked.

"Use the Cruciatus?" Astoria almost bobbed up and down in her seat. "Oh yes! Sent him to the floor... whole staircase full of blood, because he hit his head. Kept dead quiet, though. He did not scream even once."

That explained why Professor Carrow looked so sour; there was no fun in it for her if the victim did not scream. I had to admire Longbottom, though - I could not fathom the kind of will-power it took to not scream during that kind of pain. Perhaps he did it out of pure spite.

"That's enough," I told Astoria, who still looked between Blaise and I with wide, excited eyes. "We've finished with gossip for today."

She pulled a face, but skipped happily enough back to her friends. Blaise, on the other hand, looked even more grim than before.  
I understood the sentiment - it was one thing to make students practice a curse - it was a different matter to use said curse against students. Of course, I was not surprised. You did not even hesitate to torture me, your own daughter, why would your minions stop at their pupils?

"I don't believe it," Blaise said. "Don't you feel like Snape should stop that sort of thing?"

On the middle seat of the teachers' table - a spot that was, in my mind, reserved solely for Albus Dumbledore - Snape turned his head, almost as if he had heard his name mentioned.

"If he wasn't another puppet of my father's," I said. "I think I should agree."

You know, it was funny. I wanted to feel something akin to hatred when I looked at Snape - I knew he stood on the wrong side,I knew he was a coward. I wanted to feel the disdain I knew he deserved. But I knew you.  
You, who tortured and killed without remorse and scared people into submission. Even if those people felt differently about the things they had to do or say - they would not be able to. You were able to twist their minds with fear and force, until it seemed that you warped reality in itself.

So I could not hate him. The trouble was: I could not even properly hate you. I hated how you treated me, and everyone else - I hated what you had made me do. But you are my father, and no matter how much I tried, I could not hate you.

My ability to differentiate sin and sinner was promptly and severely tested, though, because we were faced with the other Professor Carrow that afternoon.

When I found that Muggle Studies was now compulsory, my stomach had turned - for one, because Professor Burbage appeared before my eyes again, and secondly because I could just see what Muggle Studies would be like now.  
I was not wrong.

It seemed that Alecto Carrow aimed to find any derogatory term she could for Muggles within the first ten minutes - it started with 'savages' and ended with 'scum'. In her opinion, Muggles were the source of all evil - and she peppered her speech with half-truths and misinterpreted facts as if that would give it more substance.  
All the while, her eyes kept darting around the room as if she expected someone to protest. It did not happen. With the Slytherins, she had found a group of people who were either ready to believe her words or keep quiet about it.

I felt almost sick when I saw the devoted look on some of my classmates' faces - though I should not have been surprised. How many times had I heard them call Granger a Mudblood or Tracey's mother a blood-traitor for marrying a Muggle?

My own thoughts carried me back to the children's home I had grown up in. Merlin, I had been miserable there, but it had not been because of the Muggles. Foster care was not apt at making children happy, wizard or not. Next to all the misery and loneliness, I also remembered acts of kindness and compassion, also and especially for a strange child like me.  
I would have never dreamed of calling any of those people scum and infuriated me that Alecto Carrow would, when she had probably never even spoken to a Muggle in her life.  
It hit me, suddenly, that you must have had a very different experience indeed to grow up among Muggles and hate them so much.

I could not speak up, though. Earlier had been different: protecting my friends would pass as loyalty and companionship, but protecting Muggles - that would be treason. Unforgivable. Something that would not earn me torture, but death at your hand.

So I did not speak. I just shared a knowing look with Blaise once in a while, to find that he looked about as infuriated as I felt. He, too, knew to keep his mouth shut.

As Professor Carrow rambled on about how Muggles had forced us into hiding and the 'natural order of things' that had to be restored, I wondered how Charity Burbage had taught this subject.  
Certainly not this way. Surely, she had told students about telephones and walkmans and vending machines. And vacuum cleaners. She had most certainly talked about those.

"What's up?" Blaise asked later, as we sorted through our notes and Professor Burbage's face flashed before my eyes again. "You look as if you've seen a ghost."

My eyes rose from my scrambled drawing of a vacuum cleaner, doodled all over the page instead of notes, to Blaise, who watched me with obvious concern.

"I have," I said and it suddenly burst out of me before I could stop it. "I've killed Professor Burbage."

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	23. Meet Me Inside

**Thanks to everyone who read, fav'd, alerted and most of all to guest "Slytheringirl330" for reviewing (I'm glad you like the story, thanks for your review :) )**

* * *

 **Meet Me Inside**

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Blaise's mouth dropped open. He sat back, closed his mouth, opened it again and finally shut it, shaking his head like a dog drying himself.

All the while, I sat silently, just as stunned as he was. The truth had spilled out of me before I could stop it and it felt terrible and amazing at the same time. I loved having the weight off me for once - but I had not wanted him to know, precisely because I had expected the silence that now emanated from him.

I drew in a sharp breath and made to get up. I could not take this - I wished that I could better shut my mouth in crucial situations, but it was clearly a quality I did not have. I could not help mouthing off to you, and I could not help spilling secrets to Blaise.

"Wait!" Blaise said and reached out to pull me back down onto the couch. "What do you mean you killed Professor Burbage?"

"I mean," I said without looking at him. "That I took my wand and I said the words and then she was dead."

Blaise was silent again and I chanced a glance at him. As I did, he spoke again. "He made you do it, didn't he?"

I had not said that - I had said one word about you. I had not wanted to, because no matter if you had made me or not, it was _I_ who had taken up the wand and uttered the fateful words. Putting the blame on you did not relieve any of my guilt.

"He would've done it if I hadn't," I said. "It would have been so much worse." His jaw clenched. "Look, he already had her, she was hurt, she was begging - he would have never let her go. And I... he's not very pleased with me at the moment, so I couldn't very well start a fight with him, especially in front of all the Death Eaters and-"

Blaise held up a hand and I shut my mouth before I could ramble even more. "You did the right thing."

This time, it was me who gaped. It took a good bit of effort before the words registered in my mind - and even then, they did not quite make sense.  
Blaise seemed to notice my confusion, and he had the nerve to smile at me, albeit just slightly. "She was dead either way and you spared her the torture - and saved your own skin in the process. What else would you have done?"

I blinked, because even though I had been telling myself this the entire time, it had never quite convinced me. "I could've... refused," I said, a bit lamely, because the idea alone seemed so preposterous.

"Yeah, Potter might have done that," Blaise retorted. "But you've got a bit of brain."

To my own astonishment, I had to laugh at that. Blaise was absolutely right - I did what every Slytherin would have done: the best I could while ensuring my own survival. For all their nobility, Gryffindors would have probably ended up dead in such a situation, and it would have done no one any good.

"I still feel terrible," I said.

"I should hope so," Blaise said. "Just means you're not a complete psychopath."

 _Like your father_ , is what he meant but did not say. You were the kind of psychopath that did not care about killing and you wanted me to be the same. I wondered if you knew that I was not - if, maybe, this had not only been punishment, but an attempt at teaching me to be like you.

"Thanks," I told Blaise. "You're a good friend."

His eyes narrowed slightly and I could watch him swallow, before he smiled again. "Sure," he said. "Always for you."

It did not feel right - neither his words nor mine. Something hang in the air between us, and I could not put my finger on what it was. Or maybe I did not dare to. Not in times like these, not when I had just confessed to killing someone. So we smiled at each other and I winced only later, when the words _'you're a good friend_ ' ringing in my ears kept me from sleep.

We did not speak about it again - not of Charity Burbage, not about the awkward moment in the common room.

We had enough things to worry about, either way: the Carrows did not grow more moderate, not that I had expected them to.  
Quite the contrary. They officially declared themselves to be in charge of punishment. Filch was ecstatic; finally, he got to bring out the old chains from the dungeons and string students up in them.  
The rest of teachers avoided sending students to them like the plague - but it was not always possible and order from Snape was that the Carrows should have final say in these matters.

I managed to keep my mouth shut until the morning of Halloween. Only a handful of people were allowed to go to Hogsmeade - they had started giving the permission out as a reward instead of forbidding it as punishment.  
I had already brought my coat and bag to breakfast and was carrying them over my arm when I stepped into the Entrance Hall and spotted Amycus Carrow with a Ravenclaw student, perhaps a third or fourth year. Both of them looked absolutely outraged.

"But I have a permit!" the boy protested and waved a piece of parchment in Carrow's face. "My parents signed it!"

"I don't care what your Mudblood parents signed!"

"Don't call 'em that!"

Before I knew it, and before the kid could step aside, Amycus had back-handed him and the Ravenclaw landed heavily on the floor. The boy scrambled backwards, as Carrow had drawn his wand and was advancing with every bit that the kid got away.  
My coat and bag landed on the floor just as the kid had. Amycus raised his wand even as I stepped forward.

"Stop it!" I called. Carrow turned with a sneer that grew into a scowl when he spotted me.

"Ya heard 'im," he told me. "Brats think they can be funny with me, there's gonna be none of that here."

"I told you to stop," I said and squared my shoulders, hoping to make myself as impressive as I could. "You think you can refuse me? Because there's going to be none of that."

The Ravenclaw had scrambled behind me and looked at me with disbelieving admiration when I shot a glance over my shoulder.

Carrow was fuming, his wand was still shaking in his hand. "I'm a teacher," he said with a growl.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "And I'm the Dark Lord's daughter - which, do you think, is more important?"

I think it was real close, you know? I think he was rather close to claiming that this was the way you wanted things run - and I would have been left with the impossible choice of walking away or duelling a teacher. My insides were twisting painfully while Carrow contemplated - and it took longer than you would expect because he was not very bright and it took a while for the wheels to turn - aware that we were at a crossroads.

He let the wand sink. The Ravenclaw kid let out a deep sigh of relief. I held mine in.

"Fine," Carrow said. "I'll get Snape and _he'll_ decide."

The relieved sigh immediately changed into a terrified sort-of-moan. A lot of students had been terrified of Snape when he had been a mere teacher - the story of how Neville Longbottom had made a Boggart turn into Snape and had then dressed him in his grandmother's clothes had become a bit of an urban legend. Things had taken a turn for the worse now that Snape held actual power around here and everyone knew that he was a Death Eater.

"Sure," I told Amycus. "I actually prefer that."

I did, for I was not the slightest bit scared of Severus Snape. Perhaps because of the way he had tried to protect Draco the year before, or perhaps because Charity Burbage had begged _him_ \- I felt like he would not throw me under the bus. Mind you, I could have been terribly wrong, but my instincts very rarely failed me like that.

Amycus glared again and then, after waving his wand in my face and ordering, 'Ya stay right here!', he stomped away to get Snape.

The Ravenclaw kid behind me finally picked himself up from the floor. "You should've just handed me over," he said.

"What's your name?"

"Stewart Ackerley," he said and his eyebrows pulled tightly together.

"Hi Stewart," I said. "I'm Cassie. And I'm not handing anyone over."

 _Especially_ not innocent children like this one. Stewart Ackerley seemed utterly confused at how things had gone and I could not take it bad on him - after all, it was common knowledge that I was the Dark Lord's daughter and why would they not think me to agree with whatever your minions were doing.

Snape swept down the stairs like some over-sized bat, except bats were actually cute and friendly and Snape was none of those things. Instead, he came to a stop a few feet away from me and seemed to loom over me, and more importantly over Stewart Ackerley, who seemed to shrink once more.

"Why, I am glad you're here," I announced and the kid flinched next to me. "Because I feel I've witnessed a blatant misuse of power."

Snape's dark eyes flicked from me to the Ravenclaw and back. His lip curled. "Yes, I suspected so much. You may go."

I had to push Stewart Ackerley in the back to make him move, but once his feet recognized their purpose, he took off at a run.

Amycus Carrow, who had followed Snape back down, started spluttering incoherently. "But! This girl - _this girl_!"

"This girl," Snape said curtly. "Is the Dark Lord's daughter. She speaks with his voice. Do you doubt her word? Do you doubt the Dark Lord?"

Carrow stared, first at me, then at Snape, as if we had both gone mad. In his mind, we probably had. He shook his head, then turned on his heel and trampled up the stairs once more. Before he turned the next corner, he knocked the helmet off one of the armours, which shrieked in protest.

Snape sneered at that, but I was preoccupied with more important things than Carrow's petty revenge aimed at an innocent armour.

"Look," I said. "This can't go on."

He cocked his head to the side. "Excuse me?" he said, as if he could not quite follow.  
I was not fooled. See, the Carrows were plain stupid, which was what made them valuable: they were quick to follow every order, without ever questioning it. Snape was different. He was bright. He followed your orders, not because he could not think of anything better, but because some unknown bitterness fuelled him into action.

"They're openly torturing students, Carrow just smacked that kid right in the face," I said. "You've got to put a stop to it."

"Orders are to keep a tight regime here."

Even though I had known that, it truly infuriated me. You know? Because even if you did not care about anyone else, about students, teachers, or me - could you not at least have cared about Hogwarts? You had grown up in this place, too. This was your home and you did not value it at all if this was what you wanted done with it.

"Right," I said bitterly. "Because torturing their children will sway so many to your side."

Snape narrowed his eyes at me. " _Your_ side?"

This time, it was me who had to inquire again - and I was not playing like he had been. "I'm sorry?"

"You said, 'your side', as if it was not your own," Snape said.

My stomach dropped. I had said 'your side', excluding myself - not on purpose, but truthfully nonetheless. Had I been with you, I would already be writhing on the floor in pain. As it was, I still had time to fix this before Snape went blabbing to you about my slip-up.  
Unfortunately, there was not much to justify about this.

"It's a figure of speech," I said, but it did not sound properly convincing.

Snape's lip curled again, but he did not get to express his doubts about my poorly covered-up lie.  
Filch came running the same way that Carrow had departed, already out of breath before he descended the stairs, his terrible cat right on his heel.

"Thieves!" he cried. "Students in the headmaster's office!"

Snape's eyes narrowed at me again, no doubt because he suspected that I was part of this scheme - and what a good distraction would it have been! The only trouble was that no one who would do such a thing as breaking into Snape's office would associate with me.  
With a swish of his robes, Snape turned to follow Filch and they both departed at a brisk pace, Filch complaining about thievery while simultaneously rejoicing over the upcoming punishment.

I stood for a moment as if rooted to the spot - and then I pushed forward. See, I _had_ to know. I had to know who had the nerve to break into the headmaster's office, and, more importantly, I had to know what they had wanted to steal.  
I kept a slower pace - Snape, I felt, would not be pleased to find me following him right now - and it paid off. Just as I turned the corner, Filch pushed a couple of students out of the office's entrance.

In my hurry to jump back, I only caught a glimpse of them, but it was enough: it was exactly who I had suspected. Ginny Weasley got given away by her blazing red hair. Neville Longbottom was protesting loudly - and Luna Lovegood, for all her flightiness, was always hard to miss.

"It's _Gryffindor's_ sword!" Longbottom announced. "Snape's got no right-"

"Good ol' Godric would want us to," Ginny said, in a voice that was much more serious than that sentence called for.

"It's unhappy," Luna said.

I almost laughed. They were truly incredible. Even knowing what they faced - because even I could not save them from the Carrows after the stunt they pulled - they were filled with such bravado. In a way, I admired them.

It was also obvious to me that they had not tried to steal Gryffindor's sword because it was unhappy - they clearly had a plan and I suspected Potter had something to do with it. What would they need a sword in school for, after all?  
I wanted to know. Can you imagine? I so very desperately wanted to know. So I decided that it was time to remind people of my membership in Dumbledore's Army.

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	24. A Merry Little Christmas

**Thanks to everyone who read, fav'd, alerted and most of all to Lunaterre224 for reviewing the last chapter and ImsebastianstanButter, who left a review on the first chapter.**

 **Little warning: there's a bit about the creation of Horcruxes near the end of this chapter and it might just be a little icky - it's nothing too bad in my opinion, but read at your own discretion.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **A Merry Little Christmas**

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"I can't believe you seriously think they'll be here."

Blaise leant right next to the painting of Barnabas the Barmy, and the trolls usually trying to dance were now busy trying to hit him with their clubs. All three were terribly disappointed that it did not work.

I had dragged him up here, because I figured that he would not appreciate me keeping secrets again. The plan was simple: I suspected the DA might hide in the Room of Requirement again. We would wait until one of them showed their face and then approach them. They would probably not like it, but it was way safer than talking to them in the Great Hall or in front of classrooms, where anyone might hear.

"Actually, I can't think of a better hiding place," I said. "Can you?"

"Why, yes," Blaise said. "Any place that hasn't yet been discovered!"

I shook my head. "It's hidden as long as no one knows what to wish for," I said. "So as long as they keep that a secret, they'll be as safe as ever."

Blaise huffed.  
Personally, I was sure the DA was hiding here again. I doubted they would have found any better place and I also doubted that the Carrows would be smart enough to use their torture to find out the code.  
Trouble was: I suspected Ginny and her friends knew we were out here, which was why we had been lounging around here for the past hour without so much as Gryffindor robe showing anywhere.

"Maybe they have another exit," Blaise suggested and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Patience," I said. "I'd think you had a bit more stamina."

He shot me a dark look and I raised an eyebrow in response. Indeed, I had planned for a long night - which was why I had assigned only people I trusted or could scare away for prefects duty to night. Theo had looked funny at me when he had seen my plan but I had told him to be happy I had done it without him and his relief had kept him from asking questions.

"Tracey'd go mad here," Blaise said. "Can you imagine?"

"I wouldn't have taken Tracey," I said. "She'd be way happier safe in her bed."

Blaise smiled slightly. "So she would," he admitted and I could tell, by the forlorn look on his face, that he, too, hoped that she was just that right now: safe in her bed.

It was in that moment that the door scraped open. A door, in fact, that had not been there five seconds ago. A shabby, old one, that almost seemed to blend into the stone walls around it. Blaise straightened and I stepped forward, but we both shrank back almost immediately, for out stepped Ginny Weasley and Merlin, she was mad.

She also looked like hell. Blood had dried on her face, probably from a crusting cut just beneath her eye. Her eyes were puffy and red, and her lower lip was swollen, perhaps from biting down too hard. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse.

"Go away," she said and pointed her wand right between my eyes. "Or I swear I'll-"

I raised my hands. "Do relax, will you? We come in peace."

Ginny's eyes briefly turned to Blaise who had mirrored my stance but looked less than pleased about it. It was a futile gesture, either way - both of us would have reached our wands within seconds and I honestly suspected that I could make do without a wand in emergencies.

"Then _go_ in peace," she demanded.

"Did Carrow do this?" I asked and gestured to cuts on her face.

"Why? Think you can do better?"

Blaise shot me a gaze that very clearly said 'don't do it' but by that time, the words were already flying out of my mouth. "Actually, yes," I said. "It's rather sloppy, if you look at those edges, but that's not the point."

Her eyebrows had risen until they almost touched her hairline. "There was a point?" she asked.  
Here is the thing, though: in that moment, I already had her. I knew it by the tone of her voice and the slight twitch of her lips - and, if I may be so honest, I also knew by the quick touch on her mind that I could not resist.

"Yes," I said. "There was. The point is, we don't like the Carrows, either. And if you're forming the resistance, then we want to be a part of it."

Ginny pulled a face, looked from me to Blaise and finally groaned in annoyance. "Fine," she huffed out. "Fine! But if you screw us over-"

"Then I'm gonna kill her," Blaise said.

"And he means it," I said. "So you've got nothing to worry about."

Ginny did not look like she stopped worrying after this, but she turned back to the again empty wall, took three steps this was, three steps the other way and by the time she crossed again, the door had folded out of the wall once more.

The room was bright and warm - there was a fireplace in the back, spreading light through a crackling fire. The walls were covered in tapestries; the lion, the badger and the eagle seemed to be everywhere. I exchanged another glance with Blaise; what I would not give to see the snake up there with them.

There were not many people present: Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood sat together by the fire, both nursing wounds that looked even worse than Ginny's - I wondered if, she, too, had such terrible bruises beneath her robes like Neville had on his leg. Closer to the entrance, Ernie Macmillan and Michael Corner rose from their seats when we answered.

"What _are_ you doing?" Ernie demanded. "You said you'd scare them away."

"I don't scare that easily," I said.

"They wouldn't go away," Ginny said with a roll of her eyes. "Besides, they say they want to help."

"Help?" Neville Longbottom had pushed himself up and walked forward. He limped slightly. "You're kidding, right? They're Slytherins. She's You-Know-Who's daughter-"

"I still don't want you tortured!" He stopped his advance, slow as it was, when this broke out of me. I could not help it. "I don't enjoy the way things are now, I most certainly don't enjoy seeing people hurt and I am _not my father_!"  
The lot of them exchanged worried looks, but Blaise was smirking.  
"Take my help or don't," I said. "But honestly, you'll need it if that pathetic attempt at theft was the best that you can do."

Neville sighed and as he turned, all eyes followed his gaze to Luna, who had watched the entire scene with wide, intense eyes from her place by the fireside. She seemed mildly surprised when everyone suddenly looked at her, but she caught herself quickly - at least, as far as Luna Lovegood ever caught herself.

"I believe her," she announced and that seemed to settle it. Ernie grumbled but Michael Corner, also from Ravenclaw, nodded at once.

Neville pulled the same exasperated face that Ginny had worn earlier, but he, too, seemed to bow down to Luna's judgement. He walked to a cupboard and returned with a bit of parchment that looked almost familiar.

"We learnt a thing or two from Hermione," he said and held the list out to me. "Sign."

"You think a few pimples will keep me from betraying you?" I asked, but took both list and quill from him.

Longbottom shrugged. "Who says it's only pimples?"

He did not tell me what exactly it was that would await us if ever we betrayed Dumbledore's Army, but it did not matter much to me: if I gave my word, I intended to keep it.  
Besides, the only one who would be able to pull information from me was _you_ , and if you ever found out that I associated with them, their punishment would be the last thing to worry about.

Blaise was less nonchalant about the whole thing, but he put his name on the list all the same. He did not say another word until we arrived at the common room hours later and we had to part ways.

"I hope you're sure about this," he said

"This is what you wanted," I told him.

He had, had he not? All through the last year, he had demanded that I take a stance against you, and now that I did - that we did - he was getting cold feet.

But Blaise did not complain again. Indeed, he seemed to fit right in with the rest of the DA. It took about a week until the news did not come from me to him anymore, but he told me that Ginny wanted us to patrol this or that corridor.  
See, the Carrows had taken to putting innocent students into detention for virtually nothing and the DA, in turn, sent people the other way when they noticed them lurking again.

For my part, I made sure that at least two members of the DA were on prefect duty each night - Theo started wondering why I had suddenly become so enthusiastic about doing the schedule.  
At the same time, we had to start working for the N.E.W.T.s, even though it seemed ridiculous focusing on exams when the world was falling apart around us.

Before I knew it, Christmas was approaching; and almost no one stayed. The majority of students had always returned home for Christmas, but this year the station in Hogsmeade was so packed it was ridiculous. I suspected the Carrows might have to stay all alone at school.

Blaise and I were going to sit with the other Slytherins, but we spotted Ginny, Neville and Luna on the platform - each of them offered little more than a grim nod, but we could not risk anything more.

"You know," Blaise said. "I absolutely loathe Gryffindors."

"Of course."

"But I kind of worry for them."

We grinned at each other - but the grin, as usual, did not last long.  
Draco was in a foul mood; mostly, I suspected, because he knew what he would come home to. We would come home to a house filled with fear and occupied by the tormentor himself. Since the Carrows had taken over Hogwarts, I, too, had an idea of what it meant not to be safe even in your own home.

The train rattled to a sudden stop. We jerked in our seats, and Pansy shrieked when she hit her head on the edge of her headrest. Draco pressed his face against the window to see what was happening.

"Someone's entering," he said.

"Not Dementors?" Daphne asked, horrified.

When I leant back in my seat, I could see along the corridor and, luckily, also see the figures that entered the train. They were not Dementors.  
"That's Yaxley," I said and Draco groaned. "And - Merlin, that's Greyback!"

"But what do they want?" Pansy asked.

"Don't!" Blaise said when I made to get my feet and demand just that from Yaxley, who passed by our compartment. "Sit down, Cassie."

I narrowed my eyes again, but I did stay in my seat. There was a racket down the carriage - voices shouting, a few dull thuds and then an enraged yell that might have come from Neville Longbottom. Blaise stiffened next to me. My heart was pumping fast in my chest and I could not help twisting in an attempt to see.

"No," I whispered.

Greyback returned first, grinning broadly - and slung over his shoulder lay Luna, her head bumping against Greyback's shoulders, because she was out cold.

"Great," Draco said and I very nearly hit him square in the face. "Christmas is going to be a mess."

Indeed, it soon became obvious that you were using the Malfoys' cellar as a dungeon - you regularly sent Wormtail downstairs, and he always quivered and glared, but never said a word. I also never heard even the slightest sound from downstairs.  
Several times a day, I would be tempted to go down and straight up free Luna - but what would I have done, then? Gone on the run? I would have probably been dead before I could leave the mansion.

"It's because of her father," Draco told me. "The Quibbler's gotten out of hand, so they figured if they took the daughter..."

I could have screamed. The whole idea was so vile, so cruel and there was nothing to be done about it if not risking my own life.

In retrospect, I feel like I should not have been as relieved about it, but you were not there for Christmas.  
Mrs Malfoy told me that you were searching for something, and no one knew what it was. She, too, was obviously glad that you were not present, though the only thing she said was that she considered herself lucky to have a quiet celebration, which I thought to be very diplomatic.

All things considered, the Christmas party we had was a nice as it could possibly get. The Notts had leant us their house elves and were in turn invited; Mr Nott's general unpleasantness had not improved through his trip to Azkaban, but Theo, at least, was in good humour and he and Draco spent the evening turning the tips of Mr Malfoy's hair different colours.  
By the end of it, I felt so full I could barely move, but I had reached a level content that I was barely used to and felt pleasantly warm even as I dragged myself up the stairs to my room.

Where I had been ready to fall asleep on my feet in one moment, I was again wide awake the moment that I stepped inside.  
I am not sure what registered first: perhaps the steaming cauldron at the foot of my bed, or perhaps the sickening stench that filled the room - or perhaps it was _you_ , stirring with a focus that I had never seen on you before.

You looked up when I entered and you actually smiled. "Finally," you said.

I closed the door behind me, though every fiber in my body was screaming at me to make a run for it. "I was under the impression that you had left the country."

"I had," you said, but your eyes rested on the cauldron yet again. "But then a return home became necessary."

My steps were cautious and hesitant as I walked forward, into my own room for Merlin's sake. I had the strong feeling that I did not want to know what was in that cauldron, but could not resist asking either way.  
"What, uh, what is this?" I said. "If you don't mind me asking?"

Once more, your eyes rose to look at me. "I am going to bestow onto you an honour unlike any other."

It became hard to swallow. "I'm not sure-"

"Oh, but of course you're sure," you said. You stirred again and the already penetrating, sickeningly sweet stench became almost unbearable. "You'll help me live forever."

My stomach dropped and my heart started pounding violently. I could feel it pulsing in my throat. See, in that moment, I thought you were going to kill me. I could not think of why - I could not imagine you finding out any of the things I kept secret.

"Not to worry," you said and had the nerve to smile at me. Twice that evening. It was becoming scary. "You'll be the vessel. I already have the source."

Do not get me wrong: I was relieved not be murdered, but the other option did not make me feel much better. The situation pieced together in my mind immediately; you wanted me to be the next Horcrux you created. Potter was out destroying Horcruxes - and I wanted, needed him to succeed. If I was made into a Horcrux, it was as sure a death sentence as refusing you was.

"What... what are you doing there?" I asked.

"It is the heart's blood," you said, as if it was obvious. "It has to be consumed to complete the spell."

"And you're boiling it?"  
Perhaps it was my mind's only defense against the horror you had just proclaimed, that this would be the first question to shoot through my mind. To this day, I cannot quite comprehend that you drank someone's blood in the middle of my bedroom.

"It needs to hold the body's warmth," you said. Your eyes were gleaming madly when they rose to meet my gaze. "Come over here."

I stared at your outstretched hand - when my mind should have been racing, it was now curiously empty. It was over, I realized in that moment. Whatever else happened after this, I would have to die. The only question that remained - was when.  
I stepped forward and my fingers wrapped around yours.

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	25. Queen Under the Lake

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* * *

 **Queen Under the Lake**

* * *

"You should tell me."

I glared at Blaise, who had said the very same thing at least a hundred times over the past three days. I knew he was right, too - but once more, I found myself in the kind of impossible situation that made it terrifying to tell him as well as to keep silent.  
How was I supposed to tell him that you had put a part of your own soul in me? How to say that you had committed an atrocity, had done it seven times, had condemned me to certain death? How to say that I would ultimately have to die?

"I don't know how," I said. "And I honestly don't want to think about it."

"Then leave some of that burden on my shoulders," Blaise said. "It'll do you good."

I shook my head. Even if I brought myself to tell him - which former experience suggested I would, he had a knack for getting these things out of me - this was hardly the time and place for a vomit-inducing topic like that.  
As it was, we were on the fourth floor, it was close to midnight and we were waiting for Ginny Weasley to show up with the paint we needed.

Ginny herself called it a 'New Year's prank', Longbottom insisted it was a 'happening' - either way, recruiting messages were painted on the walls all over the school that night.  
It was crazy difficult to get everyone through the school safe - Ginny insisted that Potter once had a map that would have been very helpful, but as it was, Harry was gone and had taken the trinket with him. So I had to rely on my knowledge about the way the prefects patrolled the corridors to sent people to the right spots at the right time, which required both precision and incredible luck.

"She ought to be here by now," Blaise said.

"You try making your way from seventh floor to the fourth in two minutes." Ginny put down one of the containers that she carried, making both me and Blaise flinch with the clang echoing through the hallway. The paint shimmered in a bright red. "I got those from Fred and George," Ginny said when she saw my gaze. "They say Filch is going to shrub for weeks before this comes off."

"I'm sold," I said. "And tell your brothers they're truly brilliant."

It took about ten minutes until we were done and could step back to admire our work: bright red letters that shone even in the dim light produced by our wands.  
WE WANT YOU - FOR DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY!

"Not very British," I said. "But I suppose it's good enough."

The original plan had been to bring the paint back to the Room of Requirement, but we were already so late that it seemed unsafe - past midnight was a time that not even prefects patrolled anymore and the only one about would be Mrs Norris.  
Blaise proclaimed that he would, indeed, take the risk if I thought it necessary, but I was honestly happy to go straight back. At this hour of the night, I was dead tired and ready to fall into my bed.

As it happened, my bed did not see me quite as soon as I had wished for it. The common room was packed, which was especially striking at this late an hour.

"Oh Cassie, thank Merlin!"  
Daphne Greengrass hurried forward, grabbed me by the arm and pulled me along. I dropped the paint, but could not turn to see whether it spilled or not.  
"It's my sister."

There she was: Astoria Greengrass, pale as death, rocking back and forth as she sat on the couch, her friends from fifth year gathered around her. Daphne knelt down in front of her, but she did not react, only adjusted her rhythm as to not hit her sister.

"She was out after hours and the Carrows caught her..."

"Cruciatus?" I asked, though it was hardly a question.

Daphne's eyes filled with tears and she flung herself into Pansy's arms. While the other girl patted her back, Draco stepped forward and sat down next to Astoria on the couch. He frowned deeply as he reached out and Astoria flinched away from him.

"It was Crabbe and Goyle," he said. "You know how they enjoy it..."

"But that's my sister!" Daphne howled. "She's one of us!"

Draco opened his mouth, but closed it without accomplishing anything. Honestly, I understood how he felt. There was not a whole lot to say about this, except that it was wrong, terribly wrong and that it never should have happened.  
The thought that Vince and Greg had done this - it made my hands shake with anger. How dare they turn their wands against a fellow Slytherin? Had I not made myself clear before? Did they not have enough decency to know better by themselves?

"All right. You two," I gestured to two of Astoria's friends who had backed away slightly when I had arrived. "Take her to Madam Pomfrey. If someone stops you, say you're on your way by my orders."

They nodded frantically. Astoria flinched again when they touched her, but they managed to heave her up to her feet. The crowd parted when they made their way through the common room and over the paint that had, indeed, spilled all over the floor.  
A dreadful silence fell over the room as the door closed behind them, broken only by Daphne's continued sobbing.

"The rest of you listen to me," I said. "This was it. None of you will raise your wand against another student, not against a fellow Slytherin, nor against anyone else. You won't do it by the Carrows' orders, most certainly not by Filch's and if I catch any of you doing it just so, rest assured that I will let my displeasure be known."

Daphne, her eyes red and puffy, sat up from where she leant against Pansy. Draco shifted uncomfortably and Theo did not look at me. Only Blaise looked mildly pleased.  
When I looked at the younger students, though, the look I got was mostly one of relief. It was this, which ultimately assured me that I was on the absolute right track.

"It's my word that counts now," I said. "If anyone asks you to do differently, you tell them the Dark Lord's daughter said otherwise. We're not a part of this. We're Slytherins and that means we don't bow to anyone. And it means hat we are better than this, a lot better."

Draco let out a humourless laugh. "The Dark Lord-"

"Would certainly agree with my assessment," I said loudly. "And if he doesn't, then I don't care to know."

An awed sort of mutter crossed through the room.  
Here is something that I had realized after Christmas: I was safe. You might torture me - though honestly, what was the point? - but you could never kill me. I was one of your failsafes, I carried a part of your soul and it made me untouchable.  
I wondered when you realized that this had been a terrible mistake. Did you only know when it was already too late or did you ever see it coming? For such a clever mind, you were sometimes extraordinarily blind.

"And Crabbe and Goyle?" Daphne asked. "What about them?"

I squared my shoulders. "They," I said. "Don't belong to us anymore. You go ahead and make sure they know."

They did. Daphne hexed Goyle, and his nose grew until it was the only part of his face that could be seen. Younger students, who had apparently been forced to do the pair's homework, now squared their shoulders and told them 'Cassie forbid it!'. I was proudest of Theo's work, though, who caught Crabbe using the Cruciatus on yet another student and magically sewed his mouth shut. It took Madam Pomfrey half the night to fix it.

I seemed to have struck a nerve throughout. The Carrows were now finding it hard to find willing torturers and had to do their own work, which of course did not make things any more pleasant. They did not dare target my classmates, of course - if because they did not want to roughen up purebloods or because they were a bit afraid, I could not say. I hoped for the latter, though. They ought to have been.

"You know," Blaise told me, about two weeks after the incident when we waited outside the Transfiguration classroom. Early as we were, no one else had arrived yet. "A year ago, I wouldn't have believed to see you like that."

"A lot's changed since then," I said.

He shrugged. "You were afraid he'd kill us all back then, you included," he said. "Did he get more docile?"

I shook my head. Look, I am not stupid. I knew exactly what Blaise was doing - he was trying to lure the truth out of me again.  
He was watching me closely, and when I did not answer, he let out an exaggerated sigh.

"If he finds out what you said then," Blaise continued. "He's definitely going to kill you."

"He can't."

Blaise's eyebrows rose so high they almost met his hairline. "Look, if you think that sentimentality-"

"I don't think that," I said and stared firmly out of the window. The snow was melting and the first flowers bravely made their way above ground. "He can't kill me because... Blaise, he did something terrible."

His bag hit the ground and he stepped closer, but I did not turn to look at him. Now that I had started, I would have to go through with telling him, but I felt a lot better not having to look him in the face during it.

"He created... He wanted to be immortal. He created something called Horcruxes."

"Hor- what?"

"Horcruxes. It's a piece of your soul, separated and stored in a vessel," I explained. "It's... gruesome. No matter what you imagine, it's a hundred times worse. He made seven of them."

When Blaise did not speak for a good minute, I finally chanced a glance in his direction. He was not looking at me. In fact, just like I had, he was staring outside, perhaps watching as Hagrid wandered out of the forest.

"One of those vessels," Blaise said when he noticed my glance. "Is you, right?"

My teeth dug painfully into my lower lip as I nodded. Yes, I was one of those vessels. Every heartbeat of mine kept you alive.  
Blaise leant his forehead against the certainly ice-cold window. Every fiber of me longed to reach out and see what he was thinking - just a little peak, I told myself, would it really matter? - but it did matter and I did not do it for fear of upsetting him when he noticed.

"So if we're ever to be free of him," Blaise asked, his voice more heavy than it usually was. "You have to-"

"Die?" I finished when he broke off. "Yes, certainly." And in an effort to console either him or me, I could not be too sure if it was one or both, I added. "At least I get to be a hero, huh? You'll get to sing heroic lays about me and everything."

It almost worked. Blaise snorted, the sound as close to a laugh as was possible in this situation. I even smiled slightly when he turned to face me.  
Look, I wanted to be nonchalant about this. You had condemned me, but I refused to live my life overshadowed by this fact. I would fight as if I would be there to see the result. I wanted to smile and laugh and I certainly did not want to see Blaise as miserable as he was now.

"I'd rather you be there to sing them yourself."

"I'll make up some terrible rhymes up front, it'll be just the same," I said.

By now, the first of our classmates had arrived. Blaise looked like he wanted to say more, but he did not get to; Daphne put her bag down right in front of me and started chattering about the Charms essay we would have to hand in on Friday. While I assured her that, yes, she was quite right in her description of the _Sonorus_ charm, my gaze met with Blaise's over her shoulder.  
I smiled again, but he did not return it. In fact, it seemed he was so deep in thought that he saw right through me.

McGonagall had us practicing conjuring for the third week in a row. Most students were now able to at least produce _something_ , though it was rarely the intended object. I got it mostly right by now, though I was struggling a bit with larger mammals, as was to be expected. Inanimate object were a piece of cake, though.

Terry Boot from Ravenclaw had just conjured a vicious tortoise that was half alive and half porcelain when Blaise leant over to me and whispered to me.

"Have you ever thought," he asked. "To make one yourself?"

I turned my head slightly to look at him without Professor McGonagall noticing our conversation. "Have you gone mad?"

He shook his head. "Think about it - if you had one yourself... you could die - but then you wouldn't."

I stared at him, certain that he had, indeed, lost his mind - because how could I possibly do it? Kill someone, drink their blood, rip my soul apart?  
But as I laid in my bed that night and stared at the green ceiling, I could not help but thinking: he did have a point.

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	26. Turning Tables

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* * *

 **Turning Tables**

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Neville scratched the back of his neck and, purposely avoiding me with his eyes, looked over to Ginny. She sat in a fluffy red armchair, hunched over and rubbing her legs as she thought.  
Blaise had sat down, too, on a green couch that had turned up in the room recently. I, meanwhile, could not sit. It was just so that I kept myself from pacing.

I was uncomfortable with this. I tried to tell myself it was because my plan would put these people in danger - but the truth was much more selfish. I hated being dependent on others and I hated having to trust them even with a tiny peck of my fate.  
Blaise _knew_ this and he had insisted despite it - another reason why I did not sit by his side just then. It did not help at all that he was probably right.

If you are wondering: yes, I had decided on doing just as you had. It was madness, all right, and I already dreaded the day that I would have to go through with it. Blaise had been correct in his assessment, though. If I, too, had a Horcrux, I could die in my body and return to the living still. I just hoped I would still have my nose when I came back.  
Trouble was, I was not entirely sure how to do it and I could not very well ask you. Any reasonable parent would probably have discussed details with me before making me this - thing, but then no reasonable parent would have done this, period. You, for sure, would find it suspicious if I now started asking questions.

I was sure, however, that there were answers to be found in the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library. It was more a feeling than true knowledge, but I had said this with such conviction to Blaise that he was now convinced as well.

"I still don't see why you can't ask a teacher," Neville said. "As if they wouldn't give you anything you wanted."

"This is sensitive," I said. Of course, I had not told them what exactly it was about. "They'll report back to Snape and if this reaches the Dark Lord..."

"We'll all be dead, yes, we get it," Ginny said. "I just don't understand why you're so hell-bent on setting your old man off like that."

She made it sound so normal. Made it sound like this was just another teenager's dumb idea of running away or throwing a party while their folks were out. It could not have been further from normal.

"It's important," I said. "Not just for me, for everyone... your boyfriend would understand."

She paled at first and then turned immediately bright red. I took a quick step backwards in an attempt to calm her down. Everyone knew that Ginny was vicious when she was mad and she was too good a witch not to take her seriously.

"My point is," I said. "That this is important in the bigger picture. And if I get one up on my father in the progress, all the better."

Neville lay a hand on Ginny's shoulder, but his expression was not much friendlier than hers. "And you really can't tell us what this is about, exactly?"

I shook my head. "It's dangerous. The less you know the better."

Ginny huffed and exchanged a glance with Neville over her shoulder. "If I didn't know any better," she said. "I'd say she's about to betray us."

To be quite truthful, I was not very upset about this. I would have preferred if they had trusted me, but I could understand why they would not - and this entire thing seemed very fishy.  
Blaise, clearly, did not feel the same. For a second, I did not quite realize what was happening, because it did not make a whole lot of sense - Blaise, who was always so reasonable about who we were and what our House stood for, what _you_ stood for, suddenly stepped past me and was angrier than he should have been

In fact, by the time I realized what was going on, he was already waving his wand at the two Gryffindors. "Take it back!" he demanded from Ginny. "Take it back right now."

"Blaise," I said soothingly, but he shook his head.

"She's not about to betray you, you absolute pumpkin," Blaise said. "She's about to put herself in mortal peril so that you fucking win the war and you talk like she's a traitor."

Ginny's eyebrows had knotted together and Neville looked at me with sudden fascination.

"Blaise," I said again. "It's fine. I don't mind."

Our eyes met. "You're a good person," he said defiantly.

I laughed at that. Because, can you believe it? I was a person that had plotted Albus Dumbledore's death, I was person who had killed an innocent woman; I was a person who carried a part of the Dark Lord's soul and planned to create the darkest of magical objects anyone could think of.  
"Don't tell anyone," I said.

If anything, this display seemed to have convinced Ginny and Neville. While I thought it incredibly ill advised to change one's opinion so easily, but I did not protest this time. I needed their support, after all, because if I wanted to break into the Restricted Section, I would need an excellent distraction.

"It's not going to be easy," Ginny admitted when we sat over th plans later. "Especially getting Madam Pince out, you know she guards her books like a dragon guards her eggs."

For the next week or so, this remained a matter of impossibility. Whatever we were to do, it would not be enough to coax Madam Pince out of hiding, so the only option was to somehow sneak past her. I wagered that I might be able to conceal myself for some time, but that would not prevent doors from opening and closing.  
Besides, this was not something I was particularly apt at - and waiting until I had practiced it enough took too long for my taste.

Blaise suggested that he would occupy Madam Pince with some nonsensical conversation on book recommendations, but I doubted it would be enough to make her turn a blind eye on the Restricted Section.  
I was almost ready to indeed obtain a permission from some teacher for another book and read the actual one right then and there, but considering the kind of topics the Restricted Section dealt with, Madam Pince would probably go and pick the book out herself and I would get no chance to get the one I wanted.

When I had almost given up hope to _ever_ read the book I wanted - the book, no doubt, that you discovered when you were even younger than I was now and that had inspired you - Ginny came up with a solution.

"There," she said and placed a satchel in my hand before she sat down on her bed. We had asked the room for sleeping arrangements, since it had lately become difficult to get back to the common rooms at night. The prefects - even my Slytherins - had taken to turning a blind eye, but the Carrows seemed to have figured that out and now patrolled the corridors themselves, helped by Filch and a few loyal students, most prominently Vince and Greg.

I pulled on the strings to open the bag. It was filled entirely with what looked to be black sand. "Is that-?"

"Instant Darkness powder," Ginny said. "Fred and George made it. I had forgotten I even brought it, but I cleaned my trunk the other day and found it."

"Genius," I said.

"Here's what I propose," she said and her eyes held the same glee that her brothers had always before playing a prank. "You set it off in the library and we make some racket outside. She'll run to see the miscreant, and not notice someone's inside still. We just continue with the noise all over the school, no one will look at the library twice, and you message us with the coin when you're done."

Do you remember the coins? Even though the DA had not met at all last year, they had apparently kept Hermione's invention and just very recently, they had deemed fit to tell me that mine, too, was still connected and could be used for messaging purposes. I honestly should have known before.

"Just make sure you don't get caught," I said. "I don't know if I can pull any strings for you."

"We'll be all right," Ginny said fiercely. "We'll use it to make a bit of noise about the DA - perhaps a few more of those messages. Filch just scrubbed one off the steps to the second floor."

I was struck - for a short moment only and I would never admit that to anyone else - by the thought that Gryffindors were not so bad after all. Slytherins would have told me weeks ago to stuff it and that they would certainly not get themselves in trouble for _a book._ Those Gryffindors shrugged it off like it was something they did every day. Which perhaps they did.

I picked a time when only a few people were in the library, to prevent any die-hard Ravenclaws just waving the smoke away and going back to reading. One could never be sure, but even they tended to be in the Great Hall during midday.  
Ginny, Neville and Blaise agreed, because they, too, considered this the best time for their pursuit: during lunchtime, it would take longer for the teachers to arrive at the source of the disturbance, since the corridors were packed with people going down to eat.

Madam Pince was seated behind her desk as usual, gazing with hawk-like stares around her small kingdom. I slipped inside when she had just turned her head in another direction and pressed myself against the back of a bookshelf.  
My hand clutching the satchel with Instant Darkness powder was shaking. I did not worry for myself - though maybe I should have. Chances are, you would have gotten the truth out of me eventually if you just willed it - but I did worry for the DA. Almost everyone had agreed to the plan, excited to spread their message once more. What if they got caught this time?

I took a fist of the powder and before I could think about it once more, threw it in the air as high as I could.  
The effect was mind-blowing. It was not just _dark_ , not the darkness of night that could be broken with a candle or a Lumos charm. It was as if I had gone blind. There were no shades, no shapes, not even the tiniest peck of light to give me direction.  
It was scary and it was genius. I would have to tell Fred and George.

Luckily, I knew the library well enough to get through by feeling my way from one desk to the next bookshelf and so forth. Madam Pince had started shrieking, perhaps trying to wield off any intruders, but by the time I had made it - I thought - halfway through, the noise had gone off outside.  
Perhaps whatever it was had been part of Weasley's range of products; their fireworks had, after all, worked spectacularly against Umbridge two years ago.

Madam Pince was running. That at least, I could make out. I took it as a sign to move a little faster at last; I did not want to prolong the danger unnecessarily and I suspected I would have quite some trouble finding the book once I was in.

The gate to the Restricted Section was cold under my fingertips and it creaked terribly when I pushed it open.  
The difference was immediate. The Restricted Section was not exactly lit; there was one small a candle at the far back that flickered meekly, but I knew at once that I had outstepped the powder. I could see again and I almost laughed with relief - I had barely noticed how uncomfortable the darkness was before I had escaped it.

"Lumos!" I whispered. My wand lit up and proved me with a good five feet of illuminated ground and shelves.

 _The back_ , something inside me called. _You have to get further to the back._ A small part of me protested harshly, but my feet had already decided on listening to this suggestion. Before I knew it, I was at half a run. Then, I had almost reached that one candle, the pull suddenly stopped.

Later, when I had time to think about it, I figured it was the part of you inside me that already knew were to look. I figured it should have also known that me finding this did not mean anything good for it, but perhaps it was plainly a better person than you were. Figuratively speaking.

My hand reached out and I plucked a heavy, dark black tome from the third shelf from the top. I could tell it had not been read in ages, for my fingers became dusty just from touching it. I knew that this was it, felt it in the depth of my heart.

"Show me," I demanded and the book fluttered open, speeding through the pages until it stilled. The page was also dusty and yellowish, suggesting an age that was also reflected in the curved writing. 'Horcruxes' was not spelled out until three pages later, but there was no doubt per the instructions.

I stuffed the book into a bag I had magically expanded and made my way back out. The Instant Darkness had subsided slightly, I could see the edges of the bookshelves and tables again - and I could also see that Madam Pince had not yet returned.

I strode out as quickly as I could, my fingers already searching for the coin in my pockets when I heard the shouting. My stomach plummetted, mostly because I could have picked out Blaise's angry voice anywhere.  
Filch was the first one I spotted when I stumbled around the corner. He was leering at a group of students - Blaise right in front of them, a skinny Gryffindor kid already with a black eye, Ernie Macmillan with paint smudged all over his robes. On the other side of them, both with looks of obvious glee on their faces, stood the Carrows.

"Leave them alone," Blaise demanded.

"You were caught with them!" Filch sneered. "Mind you, I'll get to whip you for this-"

"Let him go!" The entire scene froze and the heads turned slowly towards me. "Step away, Mr Filch, and let him go."

Filch almost growled. He took a limping step towards me. "He is in league with these rascals," he said and pointed in wide, swiping manners at the rest of the group. "Dumbledore's Army!"

"He's a Slytherin, you nitwit," I shot back. "Do you honestly think he's a part of that group? 'sides, I fail to see what terrible thing happened here that warrants a whipping."

At this, the Carrows both started talking, each yelling accusations and I thought they might have temporarily forgotten that I was me and not you, because they seemed terribly eager to justify themselves.  
My eyes met with Blaise's, then with Ginny over his shoulder. Would you know it - she smiled at me.

A black powder was thrown into the air and terrible darkness enveloped me again.

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	27. Snakes in the Garden

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* * *

 **Snakes in the Garden**

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The Room of Requirement was filled with pleasant warmth and chatter. Food from the kitchen was spread out over four tables in a spontaneous buffet.  
Parvati Patil was teaching her sister to braid beads into her hair and Lavender Brown sat, watching, wrapped in her scarlet blanket. Ginny was walking around, offering murtlap essence and dittany to anyone who still had cuts from the past day. Neville was talking to Ernie Macmillan, who had not been able to get the paint off his robes and had instead changed into some very ugly pajamas.

Blaise handed me a Butterbeer and sat down next to me. "This is insane," he said.

I nodded and took a sip. The house-elves had been easily persuaded to hand us food and drinks - they might have been bound to the headmaster of Hogwarts, but this was one of the few kinds of rebellion they could get away with. After all, did the headmaster not want his students fed?

"How many more times, do you think, before they notice?" Blaise continued nodding to Michael Corner grabbing a bit of buttered toast.

I shrugged. The Carrows were not the brightest, but I suspected they would notice if Blaise and I kept carrying up bowls and bowls of food to the seventh floor.

See, the darkness had settled within about a minute after Ginny had thrown it, but at that point, no students except me and Blaise had stayed. Though our staying was so obviously calculated, it had convinced the Carrows that we were, in fact, not members of the DA. Filch had thrown a right fit, but it had done him no good.

We had also learnt that they only knew a few names definitely: Ernie Macmillan, of course, and Hannah Abbott, who had been caught with him, as well as a smaller Gryffindor kid named Dennis and Seamus Finnigan from the same house, who seemed more thrilled than worried at the current situation.  
Ginny and Neville, however, were quite safe - suspected, of course, but there was no proof and as far as I gathered, they did not want to spill any pure blood if it could be helped.

"We might pull it off every second or third day or so," I said. "If we switch up the pattern..."

"And what are you going to tell Filch when he inevitably catches you?" Blaise asked.

"To mind his own business," I said.

Seamus Finnigan started telling a very loud, very indistinct story about some criminal in Ireland that I did not quite catch because I glanced at Blaise, whose eyebrows had pulled tightly together.  
As per usual, I knew he was right. We would never be able to support people living here, not four and certainly not even more; there was no doubt in my mind that the room's population would soon grow.

The room had faithfully produced tables and beds and a bathroom, but it could never produce food. Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration and all that. I had waved the question away earlier with a bit of arrogant disbelief at someone not knowing this problem, but I know, too, wished that one could simply conjure edibles.

"Seriously," Blaise said. "We need to get them out of the castle."

I shook my head. "They'll never go. You know how these people get, they're so stubborn..."

"Well, it's either getting out or starving," Blaise said. "There's a line were stubbornness just becomes stupidity."

The group around Seamus burst into laughter and I found myself smiling despite not having heard a word of it. I wished that it could always be like this, but the bitter reality was waiting just outside the door. Much like the cursed book that had brought us to this dilemma in the first place, which was waiting for me at the bottom of my trunk beneath my bed.

"You two look glum." Neville sat down on an armchair across from us and leant forward to clank his own bottle with Blaise's. "You did get the book, right?"

"Yes," I said. "But we were just saying... Neville, there's no way this room can be supported. There's no food and if we keep carrying it up here-"

"Oh," Neville said and looked round to Seamus, who was apparently getting ready for another story. "Right. Yeah. I'll talk to them, no worries.."

"But I do worry," I said. "You've got to promise me you won't do anything foolish-"

"Like distracting the whole school from a library break-in?" Neville asked.

The pang in my chest was immediate, but at the same time, something roared inside me. Yes, this had been risky and yes, they had done it for me. I was not doing this solely for myself, though. If I knew how to create a Horcrux - if I could make myself immortal, then I could walk up to Potter and let him do what needed to be done.

"I didn't force any of you," I said coldly. "Nevertheless, you know I would help with whatever plan you come up with. Out of gratitude, as well as friendship."

Longbottom's eyes widened, he squared his shoulders - and finally nodded before taking another sip of his butterbeer. Next to me, Blaise groaned in a tone that suggested that this was not good enough for him. It was good enough for me.

The book seemed even heavier when it rested on my crossed legs than when I had held it earlier. It was also not as easy to find the right page again; now that I could concentrate, I preferred to close myself against the whispering of your soul inside me.  
After all, who knew if it still held some sort of connection to you. I felt confident that you had not noticed the first time - I figured you would be here already, ripping my head off if you knew. But, and you might agree with me here, I preferred being sure that we did not share each other's thoughts.

You know, for a split second as I leafed through the book, I felt bad about it. This was not some small act of defiance or even just a crossing over to the other side - this was me actively contributing to your death.  
Then I had reached the right chapter and the pit of guilt in my stomach turned into a much more prominent feeling of disgust.

Of course, I had already known what making a Horcrux entailed, generally speaking. I knew about the murder and the blood. I should have known there would be more to it. There was always more to the Dark Arts.

I had imagined that I would be able to find someone already very old or very sick - someone to whom death would come as a relief rather than a terrible evil.  
It was in the dead of night, with Pansy softly snoring two beds down, that I found I would not be able to do. This required deep emotion - the book did not specify, but I found myself imagining deep, burning hatred.

Tears rose in my eyes. I would not actually be a hero; why had I ever thought I would be? I would be the murderer, the one who killed to ensure their own survival - but I could not... could not _not_ do it. Why should I have to die, just because I was your daughter, just because you had messed with me?

Perhaps I would be able to find someone who triggered such strong emotions - knowing me, I might as well find someone I hated. It was the aftermath that scared me.

I turned to the next page and saw an illustration. Oddly beautiful, for something so horrific, it illustrated the loose soul entering the vessel and I was struck by a new thought: if I did this, I would have to find a way to return. My body would have to be restored or newly created; or else, I would just be a bit of me, stored in an old yoghurt cup or something similarly banal.

My stomach turned. Indeed, I almost felt like throwing the book to the side and vomiting off the edge of my bed. Someone else would have to do this for me. I would have to literally put my life into the hands of someone else and trust that they would do well by me.  
How could I ever do this?

"I'M HUNGRY!"

Neville flinched, but I did not. Seamus Finnigan, who had only days before been so elated at the prospect of living in the Room of Requirement, was not utterly done with it. I could tell, because he had yelled the entire five minutes that I had been here. The only thing I had to offer was a couple of toasts from the breakfast table, quickly grabbed when I thought no one was looking - but they would have to share an amount that hardly satisfied one teenage boy, much less four people.

"See?" Ginny said.

I saw. She had stopped by the Slytherin table the night before to whisper that things were not going well. It was the fourth day now - I was surprised that the whole enterprise had taken so long to go downhill.

"So you brought me to be the peacemaker," I said. "Interesting choice."

"No." Ginny grit her teeth. "We brought you because you're good at knocking sense into people."

I hummed in response. It was the first time that I had the impression that they were lacking a leader; until now, Longbottom and Weasley had seemed to manage just fine, but now... Now apparently they had a problem that they did not know how to deal with.

"It's just," Neville said while Seamus stuffed two toast at once into his mouth and subsequently stopped his shouting. "We don't know... See, Harry always had a plan and whatnot..."

"Potter was always lucky and that's all," I said, though I felt that I might not be giving him enough credit. Potter was good at making plans on the spot - terrible plans that were sure to get everyone killed, which would have happened if only he was not so lucky.  
Which means, essentially, that my point still stands.

Ginny had the kind of look again that meant she was about to argue, so I held my hands up in defeat before she could begin. There were more important things to be dealt with.  
"See, the thing is, Seamus is making perfect sense," I told her. "We can't leave them in here forever, they're going to starve or get discovered."

Neville sighed heavily and Ginny ran her fingers through her fiery red hair. "If only there was a way out of this room... directly to the kitchens or something," she said.

I was struck by a sudden thought. We all really wanted a way out of this room, a way that would be undiscovered by Filch and the Carrows. One could say that we really _required_ it... Mind you, I was not sure it would work, but it seemed so logical. Why would the room not be able to do this after all? This was not prevented by any of Gamp's Law - if the room could not produce food, why would it not lead us to some?

"Have you tried wishing for it?" I asked.

Neville blinked at me as if he had just heard the word 'wishing' for the first time. "What?"

"Have you wished for it?" I repeated. "If we need a way out, why don't we just ask the room for it?"

He still stared at me, dumbstruck, and then he abruptly sat back and just so landed on a chair covered in Ernie's paint-stained robes.  
Ginny seemed to sway a little on her spot.

"No. Way," she said and shook her head.

"Well, I suppose that's what we came to her for," Neville said with a nod in my direction. "A plan, right?"

Ginny's hair swayed gently while she continued shaking her head. A smile tugged at my lips at the sight. I might have been a Horcrux and a murderer - and planner of another one - but at least I was still smarter than Ginny Weasley. I wondered if Hermione Granger would have thought of this, but doubted it. The one most likely to make this leap, I figured, would have been Luna Lovegood.

"Well," I asked the two Gryffindors when neither of them moved. "What are you waiting for?"

Ginny started, her eyes widened and she started muttering, 'right, right!', but it was Longbottom who jumped up and loudly called to the room. The others started and stopped their bickering over the last slice of toast to watch him with wide eyes.

"Hey, Room," Neville called. "We're really hungry and we wish for a way out!"

It seemed ridiculous at first - there were maybe ten seconds were nothing happened and Neville stood like a fool, staring at the ceiling above him. Then the crunching began. The walls creaked and groaned and across from us, a door folded out of the stone, much like the entrance door appeared on the seventh floor. It grew and grew, until even Hagrid could have fitted through it.

"Whoa," the Gryffindor kid made, but was also the first one to go forward and opened it. Behind the door, a dark corridor came into view, though as the kid stepped inside, torches lit up the first few feet. "Let's check out where it goes!"

"All right," I said while everybody else seemed to think that a good plan. "I'll leave that to you."

I might be the queen under the lake, you know, but I was not going down a dark corridor. Who knew where it would lead us? That was just the right job for those lions - and I would stay safe in the castle, as any reasonable Slytherin would.

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	28. Conspiracy

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* * *

 **Conspiracy**

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They did not tell me where the tunnel lead - they had quickly established a policy of 'if you do not have to go through, you do not have to know'. Blaise was terribly upset about it, but I thought it was better this way: the Carrows were not above torturing students for information and the less people knew about a secret escape way, the better. Even though they would never raise their wands against me, I thought it only fair that this rule applied to me, too.  
Besides, there were already too many secrets that I had to keep from you.

It was about time that I sealed my mind, either way. Easter was approaching and you had ordered more than invited me home. Home, of course, was once more Malfoy Manor and Draco seemed, once more, very displeased at the prospect of returning there.

"Just stay," Blaise advised both of us, but it barely warranted anything more than the bitter laugh from Draco.

"We can't," I said. "He wants us home, we'll go home. I'm not picking a fight about this."

Blaise huffed. Honestly, I sometimes wondered if Blaise was even placed right in Slytherin - he seemed to have no sense of self-preservation, or at least he did not see the need for it where I was concerned.  
"At least grow a backbone before he decides to marry you to each other," he said.

Draco paled even more than usual and turned to me with wide eyes, the unspoken question - 'would your father really do that?' - practically shouted at me from his mind.

"Ha," I said. "Just imagine how angry he'd have to be to marry me to you."

You know, another person might have taken it as an insult, but Draco visibly relaxed. He even grinned back at me.  
Honestly, I would have fought tooth and nail before marrying Draco - there was no need to ruin both our lives just for; well, for what reason would you ever want to marry me off, anyway? You thought yourself to be immortal, it was not like you needed heirs.

"All right," Blaise said. "You guys might think this is normal, but I ought to tell you it's not."

Both Draco and I laughed. Of course, we both knew that this was not normal. Nothing about my life had ever been normal and especially not in the past two years.  
Lamenting would do us no good, though, and it would certainly not make us any happier. So I decided to pretend that I was normal - just a normal girl going to her normal home like normal students did over school breaks.

Funnily enough, you had demanded that I come home, but were not there yourself. Once again, you had disappeared on a quest of your own and no one knew where you had gone. Bellatrix pretended that she did know, but it was obvious that she did not. Even if I had not guessed, Mrs Malfoy's almost imperceptible shaking of her head would have told me as much.

Christmas had been relatively peacefully, but Easter did not seem to be held in the same high esteem. Bellatrix was striding about the place, ordering people around and cursing them when they did not comply fast enough. More than once, I put myself in the way of her attacks and we both came away with scratches and cuts every time - she profited from experience and the kind of recklessness that came from insanity; I had the advantage of raw talent and your blessing on my side.

I still could not and did not want to be around to protect random Death Eaters from Bellatrix all the time. I had to study for my N.E.W.T.s after all, however crazy it seemed, and I also lost interest in the battles pretty quickly.  
I sat over my Transfiguration notes, trying to revise conjuring charms and wondered whether my results would turn out as well as my O.W.L.s - when downstairs a right racket brought out.

Usually, everyone kept their head down; around here, it was half a miracle if Draco dared meet my eyes - he had not spoken a single word to me since our arrival.  
Now, there was shouting and shuffling and cruel laughter and I had never abandoned my work so quickly before. I hurried downstairs to see what was going on - something had to be happening if they made such a ruckus.

I came to an abrupt stop in the drawing room door. They had Ron and Hermione - and, to my horror, they had Harry, too. He was easy enough to recognize, or so I thought, even though his face looked as if he had run smack-down into a wall.

You probably cannot imagine the panic that rose within me in that moment; you never cared for anyone but yourself, so I would be surprised if you could. I did care. About my safety and about theirs - and about the fate of the entire wizarding world, which stood and fell with the success of Harry Potter. I also really did not fancy a Horcrux Hunt, myself.

Bellatrix was more giddy than ever. She was clutching a knife - and yes, you read that right. A knife, not her wand. Perhaps she had forgotten that she was a bloody witch, I would not know.

"What's this?" I demanded when no one paid my entrance much attention, disrespectful lot that they were. "Who's brought this riff-raff into our house?"

It spoke volumes that Lucius Malfoy did not tell me that this was his house and not mine, thank you very much. At least, my words were enough to make Bellatrix stop her advancement towards Harry.

"It's Potter!" she cried and pointed wildly with her knife.

"Look," I said in a desperate attempt to deter her. "I think you've got something wrong, Bella. Potter's got a scar on his forehead, not raw meat for a face."

You could probably guess this, but she did not think me to be very funny. Her eyes narrowed and she sneered at me. The knife point turned from Harry over me and finally to Draco, who was trying to back away slowly.

"Draco refused to say," she said. "But I know it's Potter, I know it!"

"Huh," I said. "Well, it's not my head that's going to roll if you call the Dark Lord because you believe whatever _that_ is, is actually Harry Potter."

She glared at me and then turned to stride across the room to Ron and Hermione, who were struggling against their bonds, but shrank back visibly when she approached.

"But that's the Weasley boy!" she said, her voice shaking as if on the brink of madness. "And the Mudblood right there!"

"Language, Bella," I chided. You know, she fumed every time I called her 'Bella' and I enjoyed doing it even more now that she was already bristling.  
Look, I knew that she knew she had caught Potter and his friends. Everyone knew, even though both Draco and I refused to say - what a rare act of bravery and compassion from Draco, too, not that you would have any appreciation for it.

She looked erratically from one of her captives to the other and then suddenly started. "What is that?"  
The knife now pointed at a raggedy looking man who stood by Fenrir Greyback and whose eyes widened when Bellatrix addressed him.

"Sword," he grunted, and indeed, he held a long, bejeweled blade that seemed strangely familiar. Where had I seen this before?

"Give it to me."

"It's not yours, Missus, it's mine, I reckon I found it-"

Bellatrix stunned him in an impressive display of nonverbal magic - the man swayed and fell and the sword fell down on his chest reminiscent of an ancient king's tomb.

"That sword," Bellatrix said in a shaking voice. "Snape sent it to my vault in Gringotts!" And she walked over to Greyback as if he had actually pulled off a break-in at Gringotts. Not that I thought a break-in done by Potter to be any more likely. Gringotts was about the best guarded the place in the world, the safest place to store anything - the only one who had managed to break in was you and you had certainly not given Potter any memorabilia.

"The prisoners mus be placed in the cellar," Bella muttered. "We have a serious problem..."

I looked to Draco and his parents, who all seemed both terrified and confused. Bella meanwhile accidently burnt a whole in the certainly very expensive carpet. There was no doubt, though, that she indeed thought this situation to be very serious and very dangerous.

"All right," I said. "I'll take them."

Bellatrix regarded me from head to toe and it was telling that she did not make a biting remark, but only nodded sharply. I waved my wand to drag the group by their bonds but Bellatrix jumped in between in the last second.

"All except for the Mudblood," she said.  
The knife gleamed again in her hand and my stomach twisted violently as she cut Hermione lose. Oh, this was not good. Ron started yelling, calling for Bellatrix to take him instead, but I knew it was futile. Once she had made up her mind to torture, there was no way to deter Bella.

This time, I could drag Ron and Harry with me, even though they did their best to stay.  
"Hey," I called to Bellatrix just before we left the room. "Leave her alive, will you? I'd love to do the honours."

I loosened the bonds slightly when I lead them down the stairs, but not enough to enable an escape - all I needed them to know was that not all hope was lost. In that moment, I was not entirely sure how to free them, but if one thing was for sure, it was that Harry Potter would not give up.

From above sounded a terrifying, blood-curling scream. Ron tried to wrench himself away, but my spell had fast. Nevertheless, my own skin prickled at the sound.

"You can't barge in there," I said hurriedly. "She'll kill you, she'll kill her."

Ron seemed about ready to explode." _You_ said-"

"To make sure she contained herself!" I shot back. "Do use your brain, Weasley."

There was a heavy wooden door at the bottom of the stairs and it struck me suddenly that I had never been down here before - and, that Luna Lovegood was behind that door and I would now have to explain why in Merlin's name I had never freed her.

"Why don't you just tell her to leave Hermione alone?" Ron demanded. "If you have so much sway... bloody get us out of here, why don't you?"

I tapped my wand against the door and it sprung open. "Where did you get that sword?" I asked. "You didn't break into Gringotts, did you?"

"Who's not using their brain now?"  
Harry's voice was slightly distorted, even though his face was steadily returning back to normal. It was still pleasant to hear him speak - I had been starting to wonder whether he had gone mute.

I smiled slightly. Of course they had not broken into Gringotts. "She seems to think so," I said as another scream echoed from upstairs. Ron flinched. His freckles stood out painfully against his pale skin.

"It's Gryffindor's sword," Harry said. "The real deal. We found it."

"Found it?" I repeated. "It's supposed to be in Gringott's vault, why on earth would it just be lying around somewhere for you to find?"

There was some rustling in the back of the room as I ushered the two of them inside. I hesitated, but only shortly, before I followed inside. So I needed to make a plan to free Harry and Ron - I might as well take Luna along, too.  
Merlin, I had to find a way to sent them off on their own... I did not want to go camping in the woods, I did not want to be on the run.

"Cassie?" Luna's dreamy voiced spoke from somewhere in the darkness. "Harry?"

"Luna," I said. "Are you okay?"

"Oh," she said as she stepped into the small beam of light my wand produced. "I should think so, yes."

Above us, another scream sounded and Bellatrix shrill voiced reached us even through the heavy stone ceiling. "How did you get into my vault?" she screamed. "Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?"

There was some rustling as the goblin in question shuffled further away from the door. A wise move, I thought - everyone should try to keep out of Bellatrix' reach right now.

"We need to get out of here," Harry said desperately. "We need help..."

 _It's a copy! Just a copy!_ came the desperate wail from upstairs. Oh, Merlin, she was going to send someone down here to get the goblin, I had no doubt... we truly had to find a way out.

I had one.

"I need an object," I said. "Something, anything, a shoe-"

"Look at that," Weasley said and shook his head. "She's gone mad after all."

"No, I haven't," I said. "We're going to make a portkey. I'll get you all upstairs where it'll work and you'll be out of here in no time."

"That's handy," Luna said. "Where did you learn?"

I stared at her, flabbergasted, but I had learnt it while fixing the Vanishing Cabinet - in a way, those things were very similar and I had thought it might work (it had not.). I did not tell them.

As I had guessed, the door soon opened again and Draco stumbled inside, startled to find me there still. For the second time that day, I was told I had gone mad.

"I'm not mad," I said. "We can't just let them die, can we?"  
Draco nodded faithfully - of course he did. I had not missed his earlier attempt to dissuade his family.  
"Just take the goblin and make sure you get him and Granger into the hallway."

"But-"

"Do you trust me?" I asked.

Draco raised an eyebrow at me, almost as if to say that we had long since moved past that question. He seized the goblin by the arm, but he came willingly and only just so nodded at Harry in departure.  
The door closed behind him with a loud bang.

"You can really do this?" Harry asked.

"Yes," I said. "But we need to get you all upstairs and the others into the hallway, there's a trapping spell down here."

"Can we take Mr Ollivander, too?" Luna asked and skipped back into the darkness. When she returned, she steadied an old, skinny man that I just so recognized as the old wandmaker from Diagon Alley. My stomach turned - I had not known that he, too, was imprisoned here.

"Let's get them out first," Harry said. "And then we go and free Hermione. You can make two, right?"

Of course I could. I just needed the right object and I also did not want to leave it lying around for longer than need be.  
There were footsteps on the stairs again. Ron and Harry exchanged a look an fell back besides the doors. My fingers tightened around my wand and I reached out with my mind to see who was coming. It was not Draco; by the time I had figured out who those timid thoughts belonged to, the door had opened once more.

Wormtail stepped inside, his wand stretched out in front of him as if ready to attack. Both Ron and Harry jumped forward and tackled him, bringing him to the floor in seconds.  
" _Silencio_!" I whispered, afraid that the fight's noise might carry up into the drawing room.

But their struggle was short - it was Harry who held him at bay, who moved his lips, gazing imploringly at Wormtail.  
There was a moment's hesitation, in which I was almost entirely sure that Wormtail would stop, that he would let them go and not warn you - and then it was all for naught.

The hand, the bloody silver hand replacement for what Wormtail had given you, turned against its owner. His eyes widened as mine while the silver fingers wrapped around his own throat. He struggled - his mouth opened in silent gasps. He dropped to his knees and fell forward, twitching on the floor.

Hatred welled up inside me like never before - deep, seething hatred for you, who could turn even the slightest mercy into an act of terror and death. Without thinking, too, as if it did not matter when someone died.  
And in that moment of uncontainable hatred and anger, I knew that this was my chance.

" _Avada Kedavra_!"

Wormtail's body stopped switching the moment the green light hit; it was not the first time, but the way he just stilled was surprising nonetheless.

Weasley sat back and Harry turned to me with a look of angered confusion.

"Just go get Granger," I said. "Take his wand and get her, I'll have the Portkeys ready for you."

Weasley shook his head, but Harry pulled him upwards. "Did you see what she did?" Ron asked as if he could not believe that we would just move on now.  
I could not believe it, either, but I did not have time to sit back and ponder whether I did the right thing. I just had to save these people. What would I tell you when you came back?

As Ron and Harry rushed upstairs, I pulled the boots from Wormtail's feet - not like he needed them anymore.

"C'mon," I told Luna, who was still steadying the wandmaker and watched me with wide eyes. "I'll sent you off upstairs."

Even as we ascended the stairs, screams and bangs echoing from the drawing room, I enchanted the boots - and thought of the park by the children's home I had grown up in for their destination. No one would search for them there.

" _Portus_!" I whispered urgently and put them down in the hallway. " _Portus_!"  
Bellatrix screamed another curse, I heard Weasley send a Stunning Charm in her direction - and knew that I had to go down, too, else you would suspect my involvement.

"Stun me," I said and pressed my wand into Luna's and.

"I-"

"Do it," I said. "Just think of how I left you down there and do it."

Harry ran out of the room, followed by Weasley and Granger, who had to be half-carried and was bleeding heavily from the arm - any second, Bellatrix would follow and see me-

" _Stupefy!_ "

The last thing I saw before hitting the floor was Potter reaching for the portkey.

* * *

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	29. Immortality

**Thanks to everyone who read, fav'd, alerted and most of all to Lunaterre224 and ImsebastianstanButter for reviewing!**

 **(So, you know how we discussed Horcrux-creation a while back? It's discussed again here in the first half of the chapter, and again, it's nothing really bad, but if that's not your kind of thing, then feel free to skip over it.)**

* * *

 **Immortality**

* * *

"I can't believe," Blaise wheezed as he threw another shovel of earth behind him. "That you're making me do this."

I huffed as I dug my own shovel into the dirt. One could not really say that I had _made_ him do this. I had merely suggested that I needed help and he had not protested harshly enough. This was hardly my fault.

"Well, I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't want to bury a corpse in the dead of night by myself."

Blaise straightened and laid a hand over his chest in a dramatic gesture of astonishment. "That I'd live to see the day!" he said. "Cassie Riddle - scared!"

I rolled my eyes at him. I had been afraid many times in my life, this surely was not the first. Besides, 'scared' might have been a little too strong a word. All of this was more uncomfortable than anything else.  
Wormtail's body was very heavy - I had somehow figured that he would loose weight after I had removed the heart, but that clearly had not been the case. It was also for that reason that I needed Blaise's help: the body was too heavy for myself and I had wanted to forego magic as to not attract your attention.

See, you had been less than pleased when you came home and found that the prisoners had escaped, Harry Potter included. I had woken up just in time to dash into the cellar and hide the body away; I did not know if you could identify the killer by seeing the victim, but I did not want to risk it.  
Besides - I had needed the heart's blood. It was currently steaming in a cauldron at the bottom of an enchanted suitcase hidden under my bed in a securely locked bedroom. I feared you might find it.

"Just dig the grave," I told Blaise. "I want to get out of here."

"Honestly," he said. "You should be on your knees thanking me. How many people would come out here and dig a grave with you?"

"How many people told me to make a Horcrux?" I shot back.

Blaise huffed out something between a groan and a laugh. He did not deny it, though. How could he have? When we had thought about it, when he had suggested it, he had known that making a Horcrux entailed taking a life. A corpse tended to go along with that.

It was lucky we only had the one. You had tortured Bellatrix for hours and then put her on house arrest - as if keeping her locked up inside was doing us any favours.  
As for me, you had believed that I had, indeed, only returned to the ground floor when I heard the racket and had immediately been stunned. It was surprising to me that you had believed this lie when you were usually not as easily fooled. Not that I was not grateful, mind you. I was just... wary.

"And, just so I get this right," Blaise said. "This really is _the_ murder? You're going through with it?"

"What else should this be?" I asked. "Me killing for fun?"

Blaise's face fell and he started shaking his head frantically. It was not needed - I knew very well that he did not consider me a psychopath; even though I sometimes suspected that he might be better off if he did.  
The most prominent fear in my mind was that I might be on the way to becoming one. Look at yourself, after all.

"This is it," I confirmed. "When we're done... he's going to be dead and I'm going to be alive."

Blaise threw another shovel over his shoulder. "And are you going to be all right?"

Who knew? I sure had no idea if I was going to be all right or not. It was the right thing to do, giving Potter the chance to kill you. It had to be done, or graves like this would have to be dug all over the country.  
You were my father, though. Betraying you felt like betraying myself. I had dreamt of family all my life and now I was throwing all of it away.

"Let's just get him in there," I said.

I had wrapped the body in linen and we rolled, rather than carried him into the grave - for such a small person to gather so much weight was a right wonder. He landed at the bottom with a dull thud and I could not help but think that snivelling coward as he had been, he would still have deserved better than this, especially considering that his last act had been trying to help Harry escape.

"This feels terrible," Blaise said as we stared down on the linen-covered form lying six feet beneath us. "I didn't think it would, but it does."

"Well, don't beat yourself up," I said. "This isn't even close to the most horrible thing I'll do this weekend."

Honestly, I had not known just how horrible it would be. I feel like you could have told me how bad drinking a person's blood actually was. Because it was... unspeakable. I had never felt more disgusted with anything in my life, and had never held so much contempt for myself before, either.

The last of the blood had to be spread across the vessel. Back when you had used me, you had just dragged one finger of blood over my forehead. I drenched the whole picture in it, just to be sure.  
See, there was only one thing in my possession of even remote emotional value: the picture Slughorn had given me, that one picture I owned of you.

It was then that I discovered the process was painful, too. The pain ripped through me - I felt as if being torn apart, as if my skull was split and as if I was burning up at the same time. For a short moment, I was sure that this was it. I was going to die, right here and right now.  
It stopped as suddenly as it had started and left nothing but a dull ache in my chest. In the end, I could not be sure if it had taken hours or seconds.

Breathing heavily, I reached for the picture that had just been soaking wet and red - and now it seemed like it had never even laid close to the blood.  
I turned it over, amazed. It seemed... normal. The picture-version of you stared up at me with raised eyebrows. Lucky that this version of you did not speak or I was sure it would have ratted me out first chance it got.  
I would have to hide it either way, because from the moment I let go of it, I felt it radiating. The dark magic that lived in it now practically called out to me.

I backed away, robbing over the floor on my arse, my eyes fixed on the picture.  
My mind could not wrap around the fact that I had actually done this. I had made a Horcrux. There it lay, the ultimate evil in form of a black-and-white photograph.  
Yet it was a part of me. This was a bit of my soul, stored outside me - was it really that evil? Was _I_ that evil?

Then I heard the footsteps on the hallway. My heart sped up and I scrambled to my feet, all fear of the picture forgotten. I grabbed it and stuffed it below my pillow. The steps came closer. I pushed the cauldron under my bed. There was a knock on the door - I waved my wand and cleared away the stains of blood.

"Come on in!"

Draco stuck his head in and frowned when he saw me standing in the middle of the room like an idiot. "Dinner's ready," he said. "If you are?"

"Sure," I said. "Be right there."

He shook his head slightly and closed the door behind him again. My eyes fell on a corner of the picture peeping out from beneath my pillow. I needed to get this thing out of the house as quick as I could. Only question was: whereto?

"It is so strange," Mrs Malfoy said at dinner. "They still haven't found a trace of Wormtail."

You had not joined us tonight, and I almost felt angry about it - there were only two days left before I had to go back to Hogwarts, after all. At the same time, it served to relax me. How could I have been calm around you after what I had done?

"Really?" I asked. "None? I can hardly imagine..."

Draco shot me a look but did not say anything and instead stuffed a bit of roast into his mouth. We had not talked about it, but Draco was not stupid. He had to know what I had done, even if he did not know why.

"Perhaps that hand of his finally did him in," Mr Malfoy commented. "Would have served him right."

My own fork froze halfway up to my mouth. Wormtail's hand. The shiny, magical hand, the replacement for the hand he had lost in the ritual to bring you back. The cursed, vengeful hand that had tried to strangle him.  
While a part of me wondered if you had always know that the hand would betray its master, if even Lucius suspected such, there was a more pressing matter on my mind that had been brought to the forefront with Mr Malfoy's words: I would need a way to come back.  
I suddenly did not feel like eating anymore.

"Don't be ridiculous, Lucius," Narcissa said. "We would have found a body. I tell you, he's been making off with Potter and hides himself away now."

"Then the Dark Lord will find him," Mr Malfoy said. "And it will be all the same."

"Certainly," I said. "He will dole out just punishment."

Narcissa bit her lip while Mr Malfoy nodded gravely - if I was not entirely mistaken, tears had filled her eyes. My heart broke, once again, for this family. This family that lived in constant fear of their unwanted house-guest. This family that had gotten in way to deep and now saw no way out.  
The Malfoys were terribly mislead, caught in their prejudices and they could be cruel to those they considered below themselves, but ultimately they were people who just wanted to be safe. And they could be good - even when my father was the one to do this to him, they welcomed me at their table and treated me like a friend.  
The evil hidden beneath my pillow was for people like them. So that they could have their safety.

"Either way," I said and told myself that just this once, it was okay to say this thing that I had promised myself not tell people anymore. "We are going to be just fine. He doesn't doubt our loyalty."

"He has no reason to, does he?" Draco said.

"Of course not," I said. "That's why we're all going to be okay."

When I was lying awake later, tossing from side to side in my bed because sleep escaped me, I could not help but regret my words. Because it was not at all okay.  
The mention of Wormtail's hand had reminded me that, while I now was immortal, I had no idea how to come back into a proper body. I shuddered slightly at the though of ending up like you, with snake-like eyes and without a nose.

Even that, though, would be better than living forever as a wayward soul separated from its body, worse off even than a ghost. All my effort would be worth nothing if I could not come back to the living properly... and if I had to wander the earth for the next fifteen years like you had, I, too, would surely be driven mad.  
Mind you, you had probably been mad before that, but you catch my drift.

Before I knew it, I had sat up again and my bare feet hit the ice-cold floor. Wormtail had carried out that spell, I had just realized. No way an incompetent wizard like him could have remembered it all without writing it down.  
You, of course, would have never approved of that... which meant that _if_ there was an instruction manual, he would have hidden it away deep within his own room. That unoccupied room right down the hall.

"Merlin," I whispered to myself as I tip-toed across the room to where my wand rested on a desk. "I can't believe I'm doing this..."

This was the second night in a row that I had to steal out of my room and presumably would not get any sleep.  
The tip of my wand lit up as I stepped into the hallway and left the door slightly ajar - I did not want to risk the extra noise of it closing. I had seen you earlier, just for a split second, as you locked yourself away in Mr Malfoy's study downstairs, so I was fairly certain that I would not have to worry about running into you, but I was still worried that I might have to make a quick escape.

Wormtail's door was locked, but a simple ' _Alohomora_ ' opened it - it just confirmed my belief that he had not been a very good wizard.

"Merlin," I whispered again when I stepped inside. The room was meticulously clean - and there was a book on the nightstand, a volume on Transfiguration with a bookmark about a quarter of the way through. My stomach twisted at the sight. I had ripped this man from his life, right in the middle of it, like it had been nothing. He would never read the rest of that book.

"Knock it off," I told myself. "Focus..."

There was no spell on his desk or in any of the various drawers. There was nothing beneath his bed or under his pillow - but perhaps it was just the teenage girl in me that thought hiding things beneath pillows was a good idea.

" _Apparecium_ ," I whispered, but no secret trapdoor or anything like it was revealed.  
When all this had failed, I did what I least wanted to do and opened his closet - I really did not want to go through a dead man's underwear. First it looked like that was all it was - robes and socks and trousers - and then I noticed the little wooden box tucked a way behind a staple of jumpers.

I knew it even before I opened it - knew that this was something special or he would not have made an effort to let it appear so ordinary and he would not have hidden it away.  
It was not locked; indeed, it sprung open easily. There were quite a few papers inside - first on top was an old picture, barely in colour. One of the boys looked suspiciously like Harry and one other's cheekbones reminded me slightly of Bellatrix; the third, I had no doubt about. Professor Lupin, barely older than me, smiled up from that picture. I had the sneaking suspicion that Pettigrew had once been on it, too, but there was no trace of him now.

Beneath that, finally, was what I was looking for. It was the most used, the most crumbled peace of parchment, it even was smudged slightly, as if it had fallen into dirt. I barely glanced at it - this was not the time and place to study it.  
I folded it even smaller and put it in the pocket of my dressing gown.

I put the papers back into order - the box I hid with an extra jumper, just in case. I tip-toed back across the room and cast a last look around, this room that was the last memory of a man that would be barely remembered.  
The door I locked with the firmest spell I could muster. I did not want anyone else to break in here like I had. It was a lousy bit of redemption, but it was the best I could do for now.

The hallway was as deserted as it had been when I came here. I tip-toed back across, careful not to make a sound. My fingers reached for the door-handle - and I found the door, so carefully left ajar, to be closed.

* * *

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	30. The Axeman's Letter

**Thanks to everyone who read, fav'd, alerted and most of all to Lunaterre224 and "Guest" for reviewing!**

* * *

 **The Axeman's Letter**

* * *

I had honestly expected to be dead the moment I opened the door - or not dead, you know, because you would be in quite a dilemma if you found out I betrayed you, but I had at least expected eternal torture or something like it.  
So it was a bit of a surprise when I found myself on the Hogwarts express two days after and even more a surprise when I had entered Hogwarts, laid in my bed and woke up the next morning - I even passed a whole day with lessons from both Carrows and was still alive at the end.

It seemed, bizarrely, that you had indeed not discovered my betrayal. Perhaps I had been too quick in my analysis as to who had closed that door - maybe it had just fallen shut due to a stray bit of wind. (That was not likely, though, because if I knew a place where the air stood still, it was Malfoy Manor.)

Either way, all my possession were still there, I was still alive and well and nothing bad had happened. The suspense was killing me.

Blaise might have noticed the tension - and there was something else on my mind, too. The spell I had found in Wormtail's room had been more than helpful; while I could not (and did not want to) rely on somebody chopping their hand off or slicing open my enemies, I had compiled a spell that should restore my body - provided they managed to do it before I started decaying.

I kept debating on whether to bring Blaise into this or not. Trouble was, I did not want to part with it. It was too precious to risk it being lost and yet I feared that when the time came, it would be lost within my trunk and no one would ever find it.  
Also: Blaise was a good wizard, but not the brilliant kind I needed for a spell like this. I did not know if I would be able to direct whoever it was like you had with Wormtail. I needed someone brilliant to do it. If she made it through alive, I wanted Hermione Granger.

"You look as if you'd seen a ghost," Blaise told me over the book he was reading - a bit on advanced Charm work, as the N.E.W.T.s suddenly seemed to be just around the corner. "Fat one with a face like a rat?"

"Very funny," I said, though it was not funny at all.

"Come now," Blaise said and lowered the book to properly look at me. "I'm trying to ask if you're all right, but you're not telling me either way, so I thought I'd cover it up with a joke."

My heart clenched - what to say to that? Had I not wanted be more open, more honest with him, for both our benefit? Why was it so damn difficult?

"It's just complicated," I said. "Dangerous... and always a matter of life and death, I just don't know how to talk about it."

"You should find a way," Blaise told me and seemed a lot older than he was by saying it. "It's no good keeping these things locked inside."

"Thanks, _Dad_ ," I said. "Merlin, you should stop with those words of wisdom before you turn into Dumbledore."

Blaise frowned, and then shrugged. "At least then I'll make it through the N.E.W.T.s no problem," he said. "I could really use that kind of assurance."

It seemed ridiculous caring about exams in these times. It was such a small issue when the world as we knew it stood on the edge, when there were lives on the line. I still had to care, though, partly because I hoped there would be a tomorrow when I would need the grades and partly because it provided some reprieve from the existential crisis lurking around every corner.

I sometimes suspected that the teachers felt the same - when she had to lecture us on studying more or deduct points from someone for not having completed their homework, Professor McGonagall seemed to practically glow with renewed spirit.  
For the situation around school turned more dire every day. The student body had thinned considerably throughout the year and had reached an all time low after the recent holidays.

Even Ginny Weasley had not turned up again. I suspected it was because of her brother showing up at Malfoy Manor - no doubt the Weasleys had been on the most-wanted-list since then. It hit the DA especially hard. With more and more people not turning up again, the rows had thinned and almost half of them lived in the Room of Requirement by now.

It got even worse on _that day_.

It had started like any other - namely with me getting up and leafing through my notes on Transfiguration even before I headed to breakfast. While the rest of my classmates dragged said meal as long as they could, I valued the time before class, alone, when no one was there to bother me. I was always early and went through the rest of Transfiguration while I waited for class to start.

Amycus Carrow was as useless as on the first day and I found my thoughts drifting during his lesson. Indeed, I was so far gone that I was perhaps the last to notice the racket outside.

It was a shouting match - it took me all of two seconds to figure out whose voices they were once I noticed, and by the look of it, Amycus had realized it too. One of them most definitely was his sister.  
The other, I had equally little doubt, was Neville Longbottom. Only when we found our way outside did I realize that Professor McGonagall was shouting along with him.

"Your grandmother ran away like a coward-"

"My gran defeated your Death Eater friends!"

"Alecto, you should really leave this student alone, it is most unbecoming-"

"Mudblood-loving scum, the lot of you-"

"Oh yes," Neville asked loudly and I knew at once that whatever came next would be a terrible mistake. "How much Muggle blood do you and your brother have?"

See, they probably had some. Almost no wizarding family managed to keep their blood completely pure - not that it mattered at all, mind you, because the idea of polluted blood is ridiculous either way - but it was sacrilegious to say so to people like Alecto Carrow.  
She reacted exactly the way I expected her to. She let out a shriek worthy of a banshee and whipped her wand through the air.

Neville howled in pain and Professor McGonagall had to catch him as he sagged backwards. Alecto Carrow was not done, though. She waved the wand again and Neville's cheek and hand got sliced open, blood spurting forward.

"Stop!" I yelled and pushed Vince aside who was shifting in front of me and blocking my way.

" _You_ ," Alecto hissed. "I have had enough of you-"

She dared raise her wand at me. In that moment, I felt closer to you than ever - for once, I knew exactly how you felt when people opposed you, people who were supposed to respect you.

"I wouldn't," I said lightly. "If I were you."

"I am a teacher-"

"And I am the Dark Lord's daughter," I retorted. "I asked you before, I'll ask it again: which, do you think, is more important?"

She sneered, she raised her wand - and it barely took a flick of mine to send her to the floor. She screamed, louder even than Neville had before and I watched her twitch and found that I did not care much. My Cruciatus was honestly better than I had expected, given that I barely had any practice aside from experiencing it.  
I really, really, detested the Carrows and it showed. I felt terrible about it later, terrible that I would do this even to my enemies, but I could not afford that kind of thought during it.

"Miss Riddle!"  
Professor McGonagall's voice had always transcended any daydreaming or distraction and it cut through my thoughts like a sword now. The spell lifted and Alecto Carrow came to a rest on the floor, breathing heavily.  
"That is quite enough, I think."

"I think so, too," I said when Alecto said up and did not meet my eye. "If I've made my point."

"I'll report you," Amycus said when he hurried to his sister's side to help her up. "Snape will surely-"

"Right," I interrupted. "Please do tell my father. He's been waiting for me to make progress on the Unforgivables."

The two dragged themselves away. The rest of the student body silently returned to whatever class they were just missing as Professor McGonagall ushered them away - the Slytherins walked around me and chanced glances at me with a mixture of awe and fright.

The only trace left of Neville Longbottom was a bit of drying blood on the hallway's floor.

When I next saw him, he was shivering over a bowl of chicken soup. Merlin knew where he got it from, but I was not there to ask.

The rest of the group - mostly Seamus Finnigan and Michael Corner - had been rather reluctant to let me into the Room of Requirement. They greeted Blaise readily enough so I could only guess that I had finally tipped the scale and made them properly afraid of me.

"Hey," I said and sat down across the table from Neville. "How're you doing?"

He raised his eyes to take me in and then put another spoon of soup in his mouth. I raised an eyebrow when he very obviously swallowed. At the look of impatience I undoubtedly wore, he put the spoon down.  
"What do you think?"

"I asked first," I said.

Neville pulled a face and looked around to where Seamus was now fluffing up his pillow in a clear effort to keep an eye on us. I met Seamus' eye and he turned away, but did not move. Did they truly think that I had suddenly turned dangerous?

"You shouldn't have done it," Neville said. "Not for me."

"I didn't do it for you," I said, though that was only partly true. I certainly had been enraged when I saw Alecto's treatment of him. "I don't do things for other people."

Neville rolled his eyes at that. "Yes, you do," he said and picked up the spoon again. "And no matter why, you shouldn't have done it."

I bit my lip. Honest to goodness, I probably should not have. It was wrong, causing that kind of pain to others, even if they were one's enemies. She had just made me so angry - so vengeful. In a way, I had done as you would have and if that was not proof of its wrongness, then I do not know what is.

"At least that way she'll understand," I said. "Language of home, so to speak."

Neville was barely deterred as he picked up eating again. "Doesn't mean you have to continue it."

"She'll leave you alone," I said. "Ain't that something?"

He scoffed. "I'll stay here," he said. "It's not safe anymore and it's really about time I went undercover. But I appreciate the effort."

"Huh," I made and sat back.

Honestly, I do not know what I had expected when I had come here, but it certainly had not been this. Perhaps I had gotten a little too used to the Slytherins' approval, though I hardly knew when that would have happened in the short time since they actually listened to me.  
I had definitely not expected this kind of... hostility.

"Well," I said. "Next time I'll just let you have it."

Neville's lips twitched into a smile at that and I did not quite know why I was so relieved to see it. When I looked across, I found that Seamus had finished with his pillow after all.  
It seemed that when Neville smiled - even as battered as he looked doing it - the others accepted that things were fine.

With that out of the way, the rest of the group relaxed - we were later joined by Hannah Abbott and the Patil twins, who told that the Carrows were furious, but had not lashed out yet; in fact, it seemed that they kept looking over their shoulder.

"I don't think they've called You-Know-Who," Parvati Patil said. "Snape keeps sneering at them."

"No, I didn't think they would," I said.

Truly, I had not thought they would. They were way too afraid that I had in fact been right and you would punish them rather than me for what had happened. For all we knew, you might have - who could predict your moods, after all?

We did not talk of it again for the rest of the day. Michael Corner and Padma Patil disappeared through the door we had created weeks ago and returned, this time not with soup, but with roast, bread and loads of butter beer.

It felt like a family dinner - not that I had been to any of those, but I still imagined them to be something like this. We laughed and drank and told stories and for a few hours, the world outside did not seem real.

All too soon, at least Blaise and I had to brave the real world again. We, in contrast to the others, did not want to stay in the Room of Requirement forever. So when the time had come that the students should be in bed an most prefects were returning to their common rooms as well, we made our way through the school.

Blaise trotted quietly beside me, both of us for once comfortable in silence. We did not encounter anyone else, and it was a bit of luck, because we were both rather tired by the time we had reached the common room.

"I'll fall right into bed," Blaise announced once we were inside. "And I won't get up for the next five weeks."

"I'll wake you up," I said.

"Don't you dare."

Then he was gone, dragging himself with heavy footsteps up the stairs. I turned around, ready to do the same and foun that Draco Malfoy sat at the bottom of the stairs, propped up against the wall as if he were ready to fall asleep on the spot, but his eyes were alight and awake.

"Are you lost?" I asked.

A smirk spread across his face. "You shouldn't sneak out again," he said. "It's bound to get noticed eventually."

"What makes you think I did it before?"

He shifted forward. "You left your door open."

I think my mouth fell open at that. My stomach turned, though at the same time, I felt incredibly relieved. It ha been him - Draco, all along, who had noticed me and of course he had not betrayed me. Draco had many flaws, but he was not disloyal.

"I don't know what you're up to," he continued. "And I don't want to find out, but if I can notice, then so can others. So can the Dark Lord."

I raked my fingers through my hair. "You know I can handle myself," I told him.

"I do," he said. "But we need you. So be careful."

He pushed himself and passed me and I closed my eyes once he could not see anymore. That way, he could also not see the tears.

* * *

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 **Also, you may be noticing, we are approaching the end - only four chapters left! It's weird thinking this will be over soon...**


	31. Good Form

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* * *

 **Good Form**

* * *

It happened three days later.  
At dinner, the Carrows had beaten up Terry Boot from Ravenclaw for reading aloud from the Daily Prophet - there had been a break-in at Gringotts. In a way, it explained the unease that had filled me all evening; clearly this was important to you.

Ever since you had made me a Horcrux, the connection between us was always existent; had I not been as good an Occlumens as I was, we probably would have shared every thought. A strong emotion like this, though, I could not shut out. I guessed it had something to do with Potter and I also guessed that you had hidden another of your Horcruxes there.

I still went to the common room after dinner expecting just another evening, because honestly, what was supposed to happen at Hogwarts?  
It is funny, how things change from one moment to the other, how they take one off guard even when they had been seen coming for so long.

The crowd in the common room had thinned out quickly, and only fifth- and seventh-years remained to get the last bit of studying for the day done. I was so engrossed in my Potions revision that I only noticed someone calling my name when Theo Nott actually tapped me on the shoulder.

"There's a Gryffindor kid outside for you," he said. "Told him to bugger off, but he insists it's urgent."

I put my pencil down. This had to be the DA - why else would a Gryffindor stand outside our common room, asking for me? Though I could barely imagine what in Merlin's name would be so urgent that they sent someone here to fetch me.

"I'll be there in a minute," I said.

"Right," Theo grumbled, as if someone waiting outside personally offended him. "Merlin knows what he wants, this time of night."

"Gryffindors," Blaise said and we exchanged a quick glance before he rolled his eyes demonstratively for Theo's benefit.

It worked. Theo laughed and then announced he would go to bed - at that time, of course, he did not know that he would only be there for roughly two hours. But I digress; we are not at that part of the story yet.  
First, I got up the moment Theo had disappeared and made for the door. It was the younger of the Creevey brothers standing outside. He was shifting nervously, looking over his shoulder when I spotted him. When he saw me, though, his face lit up and he smiled brightly.

"You've got to come upstairs right now!" he said and made a move as if he wanted to grab me by the arm and pull me away, but thought better of it.

"Why?" I asked. "What's up?"

"It's Harry!" he said. "Harry's come back."

That is how the last story really started.  
I darted back inside, to get both Blaise and my wand, and then we were off, almost running through the school to get to the Room of Requirement.  
Potter was here, back at Hogwarts - and that could only mean one thing: that the fight would now come to us and the end was near.

When we reached the room, it seemed that entire DA had gathered. Harry, Ron and Hermione stood in the middle of the room, urgently whispering to each other and they did not stir when the door opened and we entered.  
Neville looked battered still, but he, too, seemed to have new spark now that Potter was present again. He even smiled brightly at me when he spotted us.

"We've been waiting for you," he announced. "Harry's just said we're not allowed to help him."

"That's not-" Harry said, but fell silent when his eyes landed on me. No doubt he saw Wormtail's dead body lying between us again. "Cassie."

"Harry," I said. "What's that nonsense I hear about us not helping?"

He looked over his shoulder at Ron and Hermione and while they shared that no doubt meaningful look, I looked around the room and found it much fuller than it should have been - and I found Luna standing among the group, and Fred and George, and Cho Chang and realized what Neville must have done: he had called everyone here for the upcoming revolution.

"All right," Potter said. "Okay. There's something we need to find, something... That'll help us overthrow You-Know-Who."

Truthfully, I think it's a wonder you had not been defeated before. Who hides away a part of their soul at _Hogwarts_ , at a school where any unsuspecting student could stumble across it _,_ right under the eye of your worst enemy. You were, in short, absolutely mad, and here were a bunch of teenagers, for Merlin's sake, ready to defeat you.

"It might have belonged to Ravenclaw. Has anyone heard of an object like that? Something with her eagle on it, for instance?"

"Well, there's here lost diadem," Luna said from her set on the arm of a chair in which Ginny Weasley had taken seat. "Daddy's trying to duplicate it."

"Yeah," Michael Corner said. "But the lost diadem is lost. That's sort of the point."

Harry sighed in defeat - though I think he, too, had determined that it was the diadem he was looking for; it was exactly the kind of rare and precious object you would put a part of your soul in.

"If you'd like," Luna said. "I could take you up to our common room to see what the diadem's supposed to look like. Ravenclaw's wearing it in her statue."

Harry shared another look with Weasley and Granger and then nodded to Luna. As the two disappeared under an Invisibility Cloak - did you know Harry had an Invisibility Cloak? Because I had never been quite as jealous of him as I was in that moment, for that cloak was magnificent - Ron and Hermione turned back to face the group.

"Okay, we need to brainstorm," Ron announced. "Where could You-Know-Who have hidden something?"

"Our common room," Blaise suggested, but was promptly dismissed - the common room was too obvious, even for someone who hid precious objects in a school.

"What about the Chamber?" I said. "The Chamber of Secrets? He must have thought no one else could enter it, and there would be a giant snake protecting it..."

Weasley stared, glanced at Hermione and then returne his gaze to me. Interestingly, one could almost see the wheels turning in his head.  
"Brilliant," he said. "The Basilisk, that's brilliant - Hermione we have to get down there!" Hermione opened her mouth, most certainly to protest, but Ron did not wait long enough for her to get the words out. "You can take us there. Right, Cassie? You can take us there."

And before I knew exactly how it had happened, I had said that yes, of course, I would take these two Gryffindors into my ancestor's secret lair.

There still was an unrest in me that, I think, did not only come from me and my plan to open up an ancient chamber with a fortunately dead snake in it - partly, it was your unrest, your tension that radiated inside me. It was your anger and your hatred that filled me as Hermione, Ron and I hurried through the school's corridors. I wondered if my own fear and agitation reached you as well.

I was also mildly worried that we would run into one of the Carrows - but then, I already knew that I could win a fight against them, all the more with Weasley and Granger by my side. We were already at war; keeping up appearances did not truly matter any more.

"So, why," I asked when Ron pushed open the door to the girl's bathroom on the second floor. "Exactly, do you need to get in there? Do you think it's inside there? The Horcrux, I mean?"

The two gaped at me. The colour had drenched from Weasley's face and Hermione frantically pushed her curls back.

"What?" I said. "Did you think I don't know? Of course I know. Can we go on?"

Hermione glanced at Ron, who shrugged. "The Basilik's venom," he said. "It killed Riddle's diary, right? Means it can kill Horcruxes."

My stomach dropped and it was a tribute to my ability to keep a stiff upper lip that I did not hurry to the nearest cubicle and threw up. Meanwhile, a part of my mind painted a very vivid picture of what it would be like to die off Basilisk venom. Another part tried to convince me that surely, there would be an easier way to kill me. A less painful one. A quicker one.

"There it is," Weasley said and I followed his pointing finger to one of the taps. As I stepped closer, it almost seemed to move - it was a little snake, with one gleaming eye and as I looked on, it appeared to twist towards me. It was _perfect_. So beautiful and yet so well hidden. I had never been more proud to be Slytherin's heiress.

"You can open it, right?" Hermione asked. "Harry could."

"Sure I can," I said. "Are you sure you want to go in?"

"Yes, we are," Weasley said sharply..

I kept myself from rolling my eyes just so, but leant a little closer to the sink. Since you liked to use Parseltongue for private conversations, it had become almost like second nature to slip in and out of it. _"Open_ ," I ordered and the reaction was immediate.  
The snake twisted, for real this time, the stone cracked and groaned - and the sink slipped back and down into the installation behind. I took a few steps back to watch as a slide into darkness became visible before our eyes.

Ron uttered a cry of triumph while Hermione sucked in a sharp breath. I understood perfectly - this was not the kind of slide I would be glad to get down.

I was saved - or prevented, or maybe something in between - by the voice of Filch outside the door. He cried, as he always did, 'students out of bed, students out of bed' - and I could already see him throwing the damned chains on the next student he found.

"You can get this done by yourself now, right?" I asked.

"You're not coming?" Hermione said. "Don't you want to - I mean, I thought you wanted to see it?"

I smiled. "I can see it whenever I want," I told her, though my stomach clenched as I said it. "I can see it tomorrow. Just... Hermione, when you get back up, I really need to talk to you."

She blinked; Filch cried again outside - and Ron grabbed her by the arm and pulled her with him to the chamber's entrance.  
"We'll be back soon," Hermione called, right before she slid down and I could not help wondering if I had just signed my own death sentence.

By the time I made it out of the bathroom, Filch had descended the next flight of stairs and had there run into Professor McGonagall, who was just very shrilly ordering him to get Peeves, now, and yes she did indeed mean Peeves. Filch was so flustered that he did not even notice when he passed me on his way back up.

Professor McGonagall did notice. She stopped on her way, looked me up and down and then quite simply said, "Wake the Slytherins. Ten minutes in the Great Hall."

This time, it was me who stood and blinked in confusion for a second, in which both Professor McGonagall and Harry - where had he hidden before? - hurried past me up the stairs.

The Slytherins moaned and complained when I finally got to them - but the reality of what was happening quickly spread, even though I did not say a word. It seemed the whole house had waited an entire year for this to happen.  
The first years looked reasonably scared and the only ones who amounted to the same degree of fear (albeit a lot better concealed) were the seventh years. Draco looked like he was about to throw up.

The other houses' students did not look much better. In fact, some of them were already wearing travelling cloaks and clutching their most valuable belongings.  
Professor McGonagall stood at the top of the hall and shouted out orders about the evacuation.

"And what if we want to stay and fight?" Ernie Macmillan had stood up - and possibly even climbed onto the bench, I do not think he was actually that tall - and shouted across the Hall. His question was answered with applause from all corners of the room.

"If you are of age, you may stay," Professor McGonagall said.

"Where's Professor Snape?" Astoria Greengrass shouted, unfortunately right into my ear.

McGonagall's mouth twisted slightly. "He has, to use the common phrase, done a bunk."

There was a bit of a cheer, though I figured it might have been louder under better circumstances.  
Professor McGonagall spoke again, but it was drowned out - first, it was only by a ringing in my own mind, but then it broke; and your voice resonated throughout the room as well as through my mind.

"I know that you are preparing to fight. Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts I do not want to spill magical blood. Give me Harry Potter - and they shall not be harmed."  
Harry stood frozen among the Gryffindors at the other end of the hall, his face as if set in stone.

"Give me Harry Potter and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded. You have until midnight."

The silence that followed was deafening. My head hurt. My heart was pounding in my chest. Not only I had found Harry, but everyone else seemed to look at him. No one spoke - no one, except Pansy Parkinson.

"But he's here!", she called. "Someone grab him!"

"Thank you, Miss Parkinson," Professor McGonagall said. "You will leave the Hall first with Mr Filch. If the rest of your House could follow-"

"NO!"  
I had not meant to shout, honest. It just came out that way, because _this was the moment_. The one moment when it counted where we stood.

"I will not leave," I announced before I turned back to my housemates. "I understand if you want to leave. If you stay, you might stand against your parents tonight. I will certainly stand against my father. And it's not easy, it might be the hardest thing we'll ever do. I understand if you don't want to. It'll be dangerous, too. I don't know if we'll all make it out alive. But you have to ask yourself, if you don't fight, if you run and hide, if you survive like that - then what world will be left for you to live in? What world will your children grow up in? Is this the Hogwarts that we want to leave them? I will stay."  
I turned to face the rest of the Hall again and caught Harry's eye once more. "I will fight with you and you can trust that I'll have your back. If you'll have me."

"And me," Blaise said.

"And me," Draco added.

Before I knew it, almost all of the seventh years had assemble behind me, with a few obvious exceptions - Greg and Vince looked as if someone had just punched them in the face and Pansy looked more sour than I had ever seen before.  
But Slytherin House stood on the right side that night. For once, we were not the bad guys. Not the cowards and the schemers. That night, we were the heroes, too.

* * *

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	32. The Battle of Hogwarts

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* * *

 **The Battle of Hogwarts**

* * *

The evacuation went smoothly, as far as I could tell, though it went too slowly for me - and perhaps for everyone who worried over these students. First and second years walked past me with chalk-white faces and I could only hope that they would all make it out alive. These children deserved to see a better version of Hogwarts and a better world.  
I even worried about Pansy Parkinson, who accompanied Astoria Greengrass and her friends outside; despite everything, I did not want her to die.

"Have you seen Hermione?" I asked Harry when we climbed the stairs to get a better view of the Entrance Hall and prepare it for battle. I wagered it would not be a one-minute affair to get into the Chamber of Secrets, but I had also thought she would be back by now.

"No," Harry said. "Ginny said something about a bathroom..."

"Right," I said. "That's because..."

But I got interrupted by an impressive wizard - I was not exactly sure who or what had authorized him, but there was no arguing with the conviction in his voice. "We've got only half an hour until midnight," he announced. "Professors Flitwick, Sprout and McGonagall are going to take groups of fighters up to the three highest towers, meanwhile Remus, Arthur and I will take groups into the grounds."

The envelope in the pocket of my robe almost seemed to burn - and perhaps it did, hot stuff as it were, my Horcrux and the restoration spell - but I could not pay attention to it yet. Hermione was not here yet to be handed the information, and anyway, we had other things to do.

The impressive man - Kingsley Shaklebolt, as I now learnt - had not said so, but the Slytherins and I, with the rather flustered Professor Slughorn in tow, decided to barricade corridors throughout the school.  
If the Death Eaters did fight their way in, I did not want them to scatter all over the place; indeed, I thought it batter to block certain ways and hinder movement as to direct them to places that suited us.

"Draco, Theo," I called. "You barricade stairs to the dungeons, chairs, tables, shelves, I don't care and make it impenetrable. Daphne, grab Milicent and you two do the same on the fifth floor, I don't want them near the headmaster's office - Professor Slughorn, could you?"  
Professor Slughorn, still in his dressing gown, did not protest even for a second and it was Daphne, not him, who lead their party away.  
"Blaise," I said, turning back to find him watching me with a smile. "Come with me, we'll seal off the Room of Requirement."

On our way up, Fred and George passed us _twice_ and assured me that they had locked a concealed passage behind a witch statue by another two undrainable swamps like they had left by Umbridge's former office. I told them how brilliant they were - and that was good, for it was probably the last time I ever saw Fred Weasley.

The next one we encountered was his sister: Ginny was accompanied by two other women, one old and one younger, but both extravagant - and Ginny, for sure, was not old enough to be in the fight. She merely rolled her eyes when I told her so.

"I am in the DA as much as you," she said. "And by the way, you can't get into the Room of Requirement - Harry's in there."

"Well, he needs to get out," I said. "I don't need any Death Eaters having access to that room."

Ginny shrugged. "You try and get him out," she said. "I'm joining the fight before he can stop me."

Then she was gone, her companions following and my heart clenched once more in worry. Merlin, we were all in such terrible danger - there was no way we would all make it out alive.

"Cassie," Blaise asked as we watched the women turn the corner. "Will you be safe tonight?"

"No."

"You know what I mean," he said, with an urgent tone in his voice. "If this is the night-"

"I'll be fine," I said. "I just need to find Hermione."

First, I needed to get Potter out of the room, though. What was he doing in there, anyway? What could possibly be more important inside than the war waging outside?  
For the battle had most definitely started - lights were flashing outside, the kind of red and green arrows that indicated savagery. When I chanced a glance out the window, I saw figures much too large to be considered humans, but I did not dare look closer. I was getting impatient - I could not wait much longer.  
I could not leave _now._ It was our purpose to seal off the Room of Requirement, and besides, finding Potter was my best chance at finding Hermione and I really, really needed to find her. My pocket seemed to get heavier every second.

There was a sudden bang - at first, I thought it might have been outside, but a second explosion followed on its heel and it was unmistakable. The floor shook and the walls vibrated where I touched them; and then, as if finally freed, the wall burst open. Blazing air hit my face, causing burning pain within seconds.

Blaise yelled and threw himself forward. We both toppled on the floor even as the flames rolled over our heads.  
It was over as quick as it had come - the air was still hot, but the flames had expired, aside from a spot on Blaise's robes that he had to extinguish, cursing, with a watering spell.

"What the-?"  
Breathing heavily, I sat up, to see the wall knitting back together, but the glimpse I caught of what lay behind was devastating.

"Was that-?" Blaise asked.

"The Room of Requirement," I said.

"But," Blaise said. "If Potter was in there-"

Then he was dead. Yes, I had already figured that much out as well. My heart was plummeting with what that meant, but I could not allow myself to wander down that road. Potter might be dead, but not all was lost. We could still fight. If I died at the right moment, we could still win.

"Either way," I said. "No one's going through that room. We should head back downstairs."

Blaise looked at me as if he could not quite believe these words had just left my mouth, and I could not, either, but lingering and moping would not solve our problems. We could not afford a melt-down right now.

Returning to the lower levels was like descending into the depths of hell. Destruction increased. People were running past us with blood-stained robes and smudged faces.  
The Death Eaters had penetrated the defences - they had come in, it seemed, through the front door, as would be expected of polite house guests.

It occurred to me that while we had spoken all year of being at war, we had not actually seen war before now. This was what war looked like. Now we saw battle. I did not like it.

"Merlin," Blaise said.

I glanced at him, but he did not elaborate. "What?"

"I... I'm just glad my mum isn't in this."

You know, for a second, I wondered how it felt, worrying like that over your family. But then, by some miracle of fate, I saw Draco dash across the floor downstairs, shouting madly for, it turned out, Daphne, who had hidden behind an armour and was firing madly at an advancing group of Death Eaters. And I knew then, that I could never worry for someone more than I already worried over every single one of these people.

"Blaise," I said. "There's something I need to give you."

It was the middle of battle, yes, but if I ran down there now, who knew if I would come out of it again. There was no time left; I could not wait for a better opportunity.

I pulled the picture and the instructions out of my pocket and pushed them into his hands. "This is the Horcrux," I said. "And an explanation on how to bring me back. I wanted Hermione, but... Blaise, I'm literally laying my life in your hands."

He swallowed hard. "What if I can't...?"

"You have to," I said. "And you can."

He stared at the picture, then at me. The papers slipped into his pocket and he stepped forward. There were golden freckles in his eyes and I wondered if they had always been there or were an effect of the fire. His arm wrapped around my waist.  
You see, I wanted to protest. I wanted to say that this was not the right place and time to get romantic - I wanted to say that this was not the place and time for my first kiss.

I did not. Instead, I leant forward myself. Our lips met. For one short, wonderful moment, the world around us did not matter. All that mattered was the feeling of his lips on mine, of his arm around me, his muscles flexing under my fingers.  
It was too good to last. We broke apart and the world returned to what it had been; and I wished that it had not almost immediately.

"Right," I said and was surprised at the hoarseness of my voice. "We'll talk about that when I'm back from the dead."

"Good," Blaise retorted. "You go ahead and...get yourself killed, I guess."

I actually laughed. Then I went and did just as he had said.

The thing is, it is not quite as easy to get yourself killed as I would have thought. You and your paranoia would have certainly thought it easy, too - but once one is in a life-threatening situation, survival instincts start to kick in.  
I kept telling myself, as I fired Stunning Spell after Stunning Spell, that this was not the right time, that I could do some good yet before I had to go - but if we are being completely honest, and we are, aren't we, I was plainly scared. Scared of what it would feel like. Scared of whether it would hurt. Scared that Blaise would not manage to bring me back.

I was afraid to die.

The closest I came, ironically, was when Professor Trelawney started throwing crystal balls from the first floor balustrade into the Entrance Hall - perhaps she had finally decided that Divination was bogus and they were better used this way. Either way, I just so jumped aside and one of the balls hit Rockwood instead, who howled and staggered away, holding his head.

Greyback stumbled past me, too, his mouth bloody - I did not turn to see where he had come from; I did not think that I could stomach what I would see. Instead, I sent another Stunning Spell after him. That way, he would at least not be able to do anymore damage.

I saw Draco running next and could not help following. I wondered if his parents were here right now, if I would come face to face with Mrs Malfoy any second - and I wondered what I would do.

The Great Hall was in disarray. Tables and benches were turned over; the hour glasses had broken and the coloured crystals, used for something so banal as House Points, spilled all over the floor. Battle was waging here, too.  
Draco ducked as one of the Death Eaters shot a spell at him that I did not recognize - but when it hit the wall instead, it tore through it and left a hole of green fire.

I raised my wand, but Draco himself was quicker. " _Sectumsempra_!" Blood spilled from cuts all over that Death Eater's form - I could not see his face, those masks of yours were really annoying - but either way, I did not think that he would walk out of this battle alive.

"Are you all right?" I called to him. "Have you kept track of the others?"

"I've seen Daphne all right five minutes ago... Theo's stationed outside and things are crazy out there..."

Above our heads, a window shattered - it started with just a hole and then broke down, piece by piece, like a line of dominoes, causing glass splinters to rain down on us. I threw my arms above my head and felt splinters bore into my skin, warm blood running down my skin.  
The most terrifying thing, though, happened when I looked up again. A hand had stretched through the window, a hand so large that I could barely fathom it existed. It was as long as I was or even more, I am bad at estimating. And it took me so long, longer than it should have, to know that you had brought giants. You had brought bloody giants to my school. Into my home.

The hand pulled back and there was an earth-shaking roar from outside, one that made my insides tremble. Draco was also bleeding, especially from a scratch just beside his eye that came incredibly close to actually being his eye.

"C'mon," I said as I hurried to him. "Come on."

"If there's giants outside," Draco rasped out. "Then Theo-"

"Theo's smart," I said. "Theo's great, he's going to be fine."

"Whenever you say that things will be fine," he said. "Things aren't fine and someone gets hurt."

Right, I thought to myself. But this time, it would be me who got hurt - and so, maybe, if fate wanted, my friends would be fine, my words be damned.

You know what the most curious thing was that night? It was when we reemerged into the Entrance Hall - and there was, sickeningly enough, a giant spider; my astonishment at the size of the giant from before was forgotten. This spider was the most weirdly large thing I had ever seen and it was terrifying.  
But the actual curious thing was that it united everyone. Death Eaters and Hogwartians alike were afraid - and they fought, together, as this monster approached.

As we watched, the spider swayed, and toppled over and its attackers scattered, screaming once more, scared to be crushed by its enormous body. One of its hairy legs came to rest right at my feet.  
Its death hang in the air like fog and the enemies, shortly united, stared at each other, breathing heavily and unsure of how to proceed, now that the common threat had expired.

"You have fought valiantly."  
The entire Hall started as that high, cold voice echoed from the walls once more. Your voice seemed to surround me and yet sounded in my head as well.  
"Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste."

Draco huffed next to me, probably thinking just as I had, that you had never cared about anyone's blood being spilled but your own.

"Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured."

I exchanged another look with Draco, but our real focus was on the Death Eaters, who had slightly relaxed their postures.

"The mark," Draco whispered. "It's burning. He's summoning everyone back..."

So you meant it. You truly meant to give us an hours time, a pause. My stomach turned when I realized that I had, in fact, not died as I had aimed to do.

"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."

"Do you think he'll do it?" Draco asked.

"He's dead," I said. "He's been dead for an hour-"

"No," Draco said. "No way, I met him on the stairs maybe twenty minutes ago..."

"HEY!" We both flinched when, bleeding profusely from a wide gash on his upper arm, Yaxley approached us on his way out. "Aren't you two coming?"

Draco tensed beside me, but I squared my shoulders. "No," I said. "But greetings to my father. Tell him we'll see him in an hour."

* * *

 **(Only two chapters left. Can you believe it?)**

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	33. Letter Bomb

**Well, no one reviewed, but still: thanks to everyone who read, fav'd or alerted. Maybe you'll enjoy this new chapter better ;)**

* * *

 **Letter Bomb**

* * *

I still do not know which was the worst.

Perhaps it was when Oliver Wood, retired captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team carried past the lifeless body of Colin Creevey, who most certainly should not have been here in the first place - who had been in charge of evacuation, anyway, and who had allowed the kid to return?  
Or perhaps it was when Ginny Weasley staggered past me - she should not have been here, either - to join her family; a family that gathered around another lifeless body. It was Fred, who had been so alive and cheerful mere hours ago. My stomach turned when I saw their mother's tears.  
Maybe it was watching the dust settle and see the full amount of destruction Hogwarts had suffered.

"We should evacuate," Draco said while Madam Pomfrey dabbed on the wound on his hand with Murtlap essence. "Everyone, we should just go."

"We can't," I said. My own fingers were bleeding, too, from when the window above had shattered, but it was hardly worth paying attention to. Mostly because there were people with way worse injuries waiting to be treated, but also because I planned on dying that night and it seemed pointless.  
"He'll just follow. 'Sides, I'm not ceasing Hogwarts."

"What if we all die?" Draco asked.

I shrugged. "And what if we all run?" I asked. "What then?"

Madam Pomfrey rose and without a word, patted me on the shoulder. Draco pulled a face as we watched her bustle off to the next couple of wounded students.

We only had one hour, but the temporary calm seemed to take its toll on everyone. My eyes burned and my bones were heavy - it felt like four in the morning all right.  
Across the hall, Blaise was helping Neville with what looked suspiciously like another dead body, but I could not bring myself to look closer or even go over; I could not say goodbye again.

Draco's eyes, too, were drooping and I could not take it bad on him - he had also lost a lot of blood, which was sure to cost him energy. I wished nothing more than being able to let him sleep, but could not; if we allowed rest now, for only half an hour, we would be sure to wake up even more exhausted.

"You're the devil," he complained when I shook him once more.

"You wish," I said. "Keep a look out for Potter instead, won't you, I still haven't seen him since this battle started..."

Draco started, his eyes widened comically. "You don't think that he-"

He did not finish his thought and did not have to. This entire time, I had wondered if Potter would be stupid enough to go and turn himself over to you. The idea was ridiculous, or at least it was to me - it would be more than foolish to assume that you would let all of us walk free and unharmed, even if Harry gave himself up.  
But then Potter had never had the same survival instincts normal people had.

Because, as you know, Harry did in fact turn himself over. He got himself killed - or at least, so it seemed to everyone, including you.

A few people had been stationed outside as lookouts; their shouts were what alerted us inside.  
The most obvious thing to spot was Hagrid, carrying Potter's limb body in his arms, but it was not what I spotted first. My eyes landed squarely on you. I had never seen you look that pleased. It was you and that terrible snake and you looked happy for the first time since I knew you.

And I wanted to hate you. I wanted to so badly, I wanted to be able to look at you and not see my father, not a part of myself. I wanted to only think of the terrible things that you had done, to me and to others.  
I could not, and I wondered if it made me a terrible person, or a very good one, or if maybe I was just a victim of the entire situation. I disliked that more than anything.

Professor McGonagall was screaming and Bellatrix was laughing. I wondered if maybe an attempt on _her_ life would be the way to go - chances were, I would not survive it, but at least I might have hurt her.

There was a bang and flash of light as you ordered silence, but I could feel that it did not hold well even before Ron Weasley broke it; something was not working the way it should. A spell cast by you, I felt, should carry more effect.

"He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds," you called. "Killed while trying to save himself-"

"Don't lie!" The words spilled almost automatically out of me as I felt the lie, as surely as if I had told it myself. "At least tell the truth!"

Your face twisted. "You be silent, girl, I will deal with you later-"

A howl sounded behind me and Neville charged past me - he got maybe three feet forward before he was disarmed and thrown back. I hurried forward to help him up while the Death Eaters broke out in uproarious laughter. Neville picked himself up before I even reached him.

"But you are a pureblood," you mused as you strut forward.

"So what if am?" asked Neville. "I'll join you when hell freezes over."

Your lip curled and my fingers tightened around the wand in my pocket. Me, you would not kill, even though that would have been useful, but Neville was in terrible danger.  
"If that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head be it."

You raised your wand and waved it, but your eyes were fixed behind us. I barely had the time to turn and see before the object you summoned soared over my head and into your hand. It was so surreal that it took longer than it should have to realize what it was. The Sorting Hat.

"There will be no more Sorting," you announced. "The emblem, shield and colours of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice everyone. Won't they, daughter mine?"

"He'd be ashamed of you," I breathed out.

An angry swipe of your wand tossed me aside. My breath was knocked out of me as my back hit the hard ground. As I struggled up again, you had forced the hat over Neville's head and it slipped so low that it covered his eyes. You looked to me for a quick second. Our eyes met - and you set the hat on fire.

I screamed. Everyone behind us screamed while your Death Eaters laughed hysterically. I scrambled to my feet, but almost fell again because the ground started shaking. My eyes rose and I saw what I had, up until now, only gotten a glimpse of. Giants came lumbering around the sight of the castle and clashed. If it had been humans, I would have considered them a good distance away, but as it was, they were far too close.

As the crowd roared behind us, Neville rose, the body-bind curse shaken off. He pulled the burning hat away and drew - I honestly do not know how it was possible - a sword from inside. Neville did not turn to face the crowd. His eyes were fixed, very firmly, on the snake.  
For a moment, I could not figure out why. The giants were still shaking the earth; the Death Eaters had broken ranks and were firing, wildly, both at the giants and the Hogwarts survivors.

And then I realized, as my mind caught up with me. He did not think it was me - Neville knew, Harry must have filled him in, and he did not think that I was the Horcrux, but had figured it was the snake.  
Except it was not.

"NEVILLE! Neville! It's me, it's not the snake, it's me-!"

Even though the fight kept raging around us, it seemed to be suddenly quiet around us. Neville turned, slowly, to face me. His gaze slipped down to the sword in his hand and my throat seemed to tighten; could I not have suffered a more pleasant, a less painful death?

"How dare you?" You had stepped forward, towards me, as if Neville did not stand between us with a sword in his hands.

Tears rose in my eyes, because no matter how things turned out, this was the last I would ever see you. "Tonight, Father, we both die."

Neville, meanwhile, had lowered the sword; he, too, probably was not keen on running me through with it. He had to, though, he had to, we had to end it - and so, because I did not want to be stabbed and he did not want to stab me, I did the only thing I could think of.  
I threw my wand, as hard as I could at Neville, hoping against all reason that he would catch it. And then, because I was afraid that you would kill him before he could even get the first word out, I threw my arms around you.

It was the only time we ever hugged, you and I, and it was the most desperate hug I had ever experienced. I clung to you and it was a mixture of hatred and love that rushed through me. Which was fitting for us, do you not agree?

I did not hear Neville say the words, but I did hear the buzzing of the oncoming curse. It was then that the tears spilled over.

It hurt. You, of course, knew the kind of pain I was in, but that was not very comforting. It felt like I had been ripped apart - in the very first instance, it reminded me of the night I had created my Horcrux, but then it was much worse than that.

I had been thrown out of my body and it tore me apart. I thought that I should have passed out; that I should have been dizzy with the pain and sick with the strain, but I had no body to feel these things.  
There was no reprieve from my consciousness.

I was wide awake through all of it and yet there was no such thing as awake - there was no sight or sound or smell. A fleeting thought reminded me of you, stuck at the back of Professor Quirrel's head and I wondered how you had pushed through this pain, this searing, burning, unimaginable pain, to perform such a feat.

Would it get better? But then it felt like I had been in this state forever and for only a second at the same time. There was no such thing as the passage of time in this state.

How had you done anything in this state, how had you grown strong enough to form even the slightest bit of a body, how had you even moved?  
I could not find a sense of direction or even anything remotely resembling _existence._

There was nothing but the pain. Every fiber of my being seemed to be burning. It felt like I was exploding and yet there was no way out and it seemed like I was rather pressed together.

I could not take this. I wished that I could cry, but that option, too, was also not open to me. I could not live like this, if it could be called living. If this was how I was to spend eternity, I would certainly go mad. Could I go mad like this? I felt that I had to.  
Surely, no one could bear this. You had probably turned out good, considering what this was like.

My mind turned, as if to torture me further, to Wormtail - I saw him, lying dead on the floor of Malfoy's cellar and for a short second, I recalled the taste of his blood and I wished that I could actually throw up... Maybe I had deserved this after all. What had I been thinking, taking another's life for my own - I did not deserve anything better than _this_.  
If only I could die for my sins, if only I could put an end to this... but no amount of wishing would relieve me from this torture and the last sane part of my mind told me that no amount of wishing would bring back Wormtail, either and make everything undone.

Then I felt the pull. It was small at first and grew ever stronger. The pain was still there, still torturous, but the pull was so distracting. At first, I tried to stem against it with everything I had - which was nothing. I had nothing but the pain to cling to and my hold was not very strong.  
A thought struck me: maybe this was the end, maybe this was the death I so longed for, maybe someone had answered my prayers and had come to deliver me from this hell.

With that thought, I could not hold on any longer. I let the pull take me. The pain faded; I felt like I was floating, still and yet being catapulted through the world once more. Everything seemed so much lighter now. Warmer, too - I wondered if the sun was shining and wondered at the same time why there could be a sun in death.

Then my lips parted and I took in the deepest breath of my life.

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 **Also, I don't know how it happened, but next week will be the last chapter. I know, right? Feels like I just started this story. I'm going to miss it.**


	34. Yours Truly

**Thanks to everyone who read, fav'd, alerted and most of all to Lunaterre224 for reviewing!  
**

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 **Yours Truly**

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The second breath was less pleasant. My throat was sore and the air burnt on its way to my lungs. I blinked, but was almost blinded. It took half a minute for my eyes to adjust even to the dim light that surrounded me. Finally, my eyes opened wide enough to make out the stone ceiling above me.

"She's alive!" The voice rang shrilly in my ears and it took three or four more sentences ("She's opened her eyes! I did it, can you believe it?") until I identified the owner of the voice as Hermione Granger. This did not make a lot of sense to me. I turned my head slightly and saw her standing over me with a beaming smile on her face.  
The rest of her did not match that expression; there was dried blood and dirt on her face and her hair was nothing short of a tangled mess.

I propped myself up and was immediately pulled into a tight, painful, comfortable hug. You know, I actually think she was crying a little bit. She eventually pulled back and revealed Harry and Blaise sitting behind her. Both of them looked very akin to her - rattled and battle-worn, but smiling brightly.

"Sorry about the room," Harry said and I only now recognized that it was either the world's largest broom cupboard or Hogwarts' tiniest classroom. "They brought you here before we got to you. Thought you were dead."

"I was," I said and found my voice hoarse and raspy. "How long-?"

"Three hours," Hermione said and her expression dampened a little. "This was a bit harder than I thought."

It had only been three hours? I could not believe that was true. I must have been gone for weeks, months, years... It had felt like an eternity. It should have taken so much longer; you had needed thirteen years to return, you-

You.

"What about my father?" I asked and dreaded the answer almost immediately. I was not sure what would be worse - if they told me you were gone or if they told me you had made it out alive. I felt there was no satisfying answer.

Hermione swallowed hard and turned to Blaise and Harry, who shared a look that made clear just how uncomfortable they, too, were.

"He's dead," Blaise finally said.

"I'm sorry," added Harry, but I shook my head at once. No, he should not be sorry, him least of all people.  
And I - I did not know how I felt. You were dead. Gone from this earth for good, just as I had planned and wanted - and yet. _And yet_. I did not want to cry in front of these people, though. This was not the time and space to be sad about your passing. You, the worst enemy the Wizarding World had ever faced. You, the nightmare of every man, woman and child in Britain.  
I was devastated, but was not sure if I was allowed to be.

"Good," I said.

The silence stretched again, until Hermione shook herself and handed me a very scorched version of the picture - my only photograph of you. My Horcrux.  
"Blaise gave me the picture and the letter," she said. "He said you had wanted me to do it. There was no point of waiting around, so we went through with it right away... we destroyed the Horcrux, though, I'm sure you understand."

"Yes," I said at once. "That's perfect... That was some impressive magic, Hermione."

She rolled her eyes at me, which I thought to be rather rude. "You gave me very specific instructions."

I had, but I hardly saw why this was subject to ridicule. Hermione is a wonderful witch and I will tell that to anyone at anytime, but she is not really one to go with the flow. So I had spelled out every step for her. It had been my life at stake, after all. The Horcrux destroying had not been part of it, but I did not mind. I would rather die than experience the pain I had been in again.  
I said so much as I inspected my fingers and hands - I could barely belief that I had been dead, so utterly detached from my own body and yet here I was, counting to ten on my own fingers.

"I can't believe you did this," Harry said suddenly. "A Horcrux... after everything..."

Blaise's eyebrows pulled together and I squared my shoulders at the accusation in his tone. The pain, regret and shame of the purgatory were still fresh in my mind and the sinking feeling in my stomach that came from any thought about Wormtail had not vanished, either, but I was not about to admit that to Potter.

"It kept me alive, didn't it?"

"Yes," Hermione said desperately. "But Cassie-"

I held up a hand to interrupt her - I had been through all of that. Blaise and I had been through all of that and I had not interest in repeating all of it just because Potter and his friends had not been in the loop.

"Look, I knew that I would have to die, eventually," I said. "Excuse me for coming up with a solution."

Hermione sighed heavily. "This could have gone so wrong, though..."

I met gazes with Blaise. Ironically, it had first been I to say that this would go wrong and he the one who had convinced me to do this... and as of now, I was still not entirely sure if it had been the right decision. It was unnatural to come back from the dead. But as I sat here, warm and safe and in the company of friends, I could not bring myself to properly regret it.  
Of course, it could have gone wrong - but then, one Horcrux had been quite enough for me and I never intended to create _seven_.

"I took every precaution I could," I said. "I handed you my Horcrux on a silver platter... A little risky, I admit, but just in case I turned into a dark wizard without a nose..."

Hermione snorted and Harry huffed - I could not tell if it was amusement or disgust, or maybe a mixture of both of these things. What a monster he must have thought me, to talk like that about you just seconds after you died. But I resolved, in that moment, to not think of you like that anymore. Instead, as I clutched the picture of you, I decided to think of you like you were on it: a brilliant, ambitious young man who had called Hogwarts his home instead of viewing it as a fortress filled with his enemies.

"We should get back out," Harry said to Hermione. "There's loads of people who'll want to talk to us."

"Right," Hermione said. "Are you all right, Cassie? I'm not sure if you should rest or-"

"I rested enough," I said.  
Untrue to my words, I actually swayed a bit when I got up, but Blaise was quickly there to catch me - it seemed my legs were as surprised as I to be standing once more.

The moment we stepped outside, Harry and Hermione were swept away. People were celebrating, and weeping over the deaths of their loved ones at the same time. Blaise walked me into the Great Hall and we saw a small group of Slytherins sitting with a few battered Hufflepuffs - Draco, Theo and Millicent.  
I asked for Daphne, but Blaise merely shook his head. Pain shot through me - maybe I could be the one to tell Astoria. It felt like I had to.

"Are you all right, though?" he asked. "Truly?"

"No," I said. "But I'm alive."

For a while, sadly, that was all I had. You never knew it, because to you, the threat of death was always the worst fear, but dying is easy compared to surviving.

How does one go on, knowing that they have killed their father, among others? Or, maybe, if you were to argue that I had not said the words myself, that I had not actively ended your life - how does one go on knowing that without them, their only family would still be alive?

For what it is worth, I mourned you and that was perhaps the hardest part. For one, because I felt that it was hypocritical; that I should not mourn when I had killed you myself - and yet that did not keep me from crying my eyes out at night, sobbing into my pillow and stuffing what I could of my fist into my mouth to cancel out the noise.  
Because there was another thing that made it hard to mourn you: there was no one to share the pain with. Absolutely no one in the entire world was sad you were gone (and rightfully so, for what have you done on this earth to deserve others' sadness?). If I had voiced my devastation, I would not have been met with understanding - chances were, I would have been met with loathing, probably met with the words 'traitor' and, maybe worse, 'Death Eater'.  
How could I have told anyone about the pain I felt? Even Blaise was so relieved that I did not dare rain on his parade.

I never saw your body. Years later, I would wish that I had and think that a funeral might have given me a bit of peace, that it might have provided closure. As it was, I did not get the luxury. Right after the battle, I did not have the heart nor the strength of mind to bother anyone with it, least of all Harry and his friends.  
I am sorry. Honestly.

The wizarding world celebrated - they were rid of you, and while they had known that feeling once already, years ago, they were even more elated now, when they knew it was for good.  
Harry was radiant whenever in public and tended to look like a ghost when one caught him in private. He reflected all of us in that way.

I want to say that I missed you. I like the idea of that, you know? Missing you. But I do not think I did, not really. I think I missed the idea of you more than who you had actually been. I missed what I always had: a family. A proper one. One that loved me and did not torture me or turn me into a terrifying object of Dark Arts or attempted to take over the world.

For a long time, I thought I did not have that - but you know what? When I graduated, a year late because you had destroyed my school, the Malfoys treated my graduation the same as Draco's, and Blaise's mother hugged me as tight as she hugged him. I suppose, in the end, blood matters a lot less than everyone always pretended.

I did not realize that day, when I walked out of Hogwarts for the last time, with Blaise's arm wrapped around my shoulders - and Tracey by our side! With you gone, she did not have to worry about returning anymore; perhaps another sign that it only did the world good that you were gone - but I did have a family. Patched-together it might have been, but who cares?

I am not sure if I will ever have children, you know. Maybe I will - or maybe I will finally relieve the world of Slytherin's heritage, not that this was his fault. Maybe I do not want to subject my children to _your_ legacy - or maybe I will prove to everyone how much better we can be.

Maybe in ten, fifteen or twenty years, I will stand on Platform 9 3/4 and wave my children goodbye. Maybe Blaise will be the one to tell me that they are smart and that we raised them good and they would therefore be all right; for good measure, he might even add that Christmas _really_ is just around the corner.  
Maybe Tracey will be there, too, perhaps with some Frenchman she met in her refuge and wave her own children off - maybe they would become best friends. They might already be - having known each other since the sandbox.

Or maybe, years from now, we will have drifted apart and I will sit with my colleagues and say things like, 'why yes, I know the Zabinis, Mr Zabini and I were classmates at Hogwarts...' and I would shrug off the rumours about his mother killing her tenth husband for the inheritance even though she was already approaching a century's worth of life - it might be true or not, it was Blaise's mother after all.

The point is: I do not know the future. That is all right. All I know is that I will be alive until I will not be - and that when the day comes, I will face death like you never have: with squared shoulders and the knowledge that things will be all right. There are worse things than death.

Until then, I will be whatever I can be. Your daughter. Slytherin's heiress. War hero and fallen from grace at the same time. I will be whatever life throws at me - wife and mother and hard worker; perhaps even an old cat lady and the nightmare of neighbour children or the one who invited them for tea and biscuits.  
Most importantly, I will forever be yours truly - the Queen Under the Lake.

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 **And... we're done. That was it, the last chapter.  
Thanks to everyone who stuck with this story and especially the people who (repeatedly) left reviews. **

**Feel free to check out my other stories if you liked this one... especially On The Fence, since the rewrite will be up soon.**

 **Have yourself a lovely day!**


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